Treacherous Dealings
by symbelmyne
Summary: In Saruman's mad lust for the ring, he will do anything to discover it's location. By holding nobles captive, he thinks he will draw out other nobles who will be sure to be involved with the ring. And what if the captives were elves?
1. It Begins

A/N: In Saruman's mad lust for the ring, he will do anything to discover it's location. By holding nobles captive, he thinks he will draw out other nobles who will be sure to be involved with the ring. And what if the captives were elves?

Just to let you know, this happens after Pippin looks in the palantir in Rohan and Legolas steadies a thrashing Aragorn who grabbed the palantir from Pippin. The eye beholds Aragorn and Legolas. The story starts when Pippin, Gandalf are fighting for their lives (literally) in Minas Tirith.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters, plots or any other works. This applies for the entire story.

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**Chapter One**

**It Begins**

The city was bustling with frenzied activity; Minas Tirith was under attack. Pippin was roughly bustled about by much larger bodies which were fleeing every which way either to get to safety or to help in the reinforcing of the gate. But they were mostly peasants, not knowing where to flee after already fleeing their scorching homes.

"Gandalf? Gandalf!" Pippin said to no one really, and a little reluctantly at first seeing as he had only caught the wizard's staff flying through the fray. Pippin shoved his way through the crush towards gandalf. But even though his gaze was fixedly on the white robed figure, he caught something from the corner of his eye - a rather large creature of some sort hurtling purposely towards Pippin's own goal, weilding an axe. Pippin gasped and doubled his efforts to get through. Pippin clumsily drew his sword. The orc swung his axe. Gandalf continued hacking away at the foes in front of him.

_SHING! _

The sound of steel on steel sliced through the air diverting Gandalf's attention to the struggle behind him just in time to see Pippin's sword slash the fell creature.

"That was some blow! Continue like that and you shall rise through Gondor's ranks!" Gandalf declared, his bushy eyebrows raising.

"Than I shall do the opposite... I thought this was a ceremonial position of sorts..." Pippin muttered.

"I did tell you to hold your tongue in the presence of Denethor, you fool of a Took! But this is no such place to sit down and have a nice little chat about one's rank in society" Gandalf stated, "I hope you've noticed that there's a battle about!".

"I wish I hadn't noticed" Pippin said and sighed as he thought once more of what Merry must be doing. He and Gandalf were the only ones in this cursed city, which was an irony considering he had heard it was the greatest city of men. Merry was in the care of Theoden and Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had apparently gone to a place called "the paths of the dead". And Frodo and Sam... Pippin grimaced thinking of their position and actually felt himself lucky to be where he was.

"Come," Gandalf announced as he mounted his horse, "aid is needed near the gate."

Pippin felt himself being swung up onto the pristine white horse's back. Not for the last time.

* * *

Gorlak's grin looked more like a grimace and revealed mossy teeth in the process. What didn't he have to grin about? He was the captain of Dol Guldur, the seemingly dormant fortress located in south Mirkwood, and took orders from no one - except for Sharkey. But hey, he was thousands of miles away, what was he going to do? Cast some bewitchment upon him from his little tower? Gorlak gave a croaking laugh at the thought. Although Gorlak deemed himself more cunning than the average Orc, he knew very little of Sharkey. But he didn't know "Sharkey" wasn't the old man's real name; it was Saruman. He had heard rumours that he used to be a great sorcerer in the older ages but his power fell and now he was looking for minions to do his bidding. Gorlak and a few other orcs had been the only occupants of Dol Guldur for a while, laying low until some word was heard about the doings of the world. Eventually the enchanting voice of Sharkey reached his ears and Gorlak took command of the small band he had been with. Before he had known it there were many more orcs occupying the foul underground hovels of Dol Guldur. This is what Gorlak had wanted: power and command over others. He had lain restless for far too long. Besides, Sharkey promised that he would reap the benefits of his employment.

For a while his band had increased their strength and honed their long rusted weapons. But it was now time for action. Sharkey had sent word of nearby elves - elves. The very word stirred a deep unrelenting hatred for the race. For all orcs had once been elves, fair and immune to the weaknesses they sufferred. But this anger had lain dormant for so long, Gorlak was surprised when he heard the word, for there were few left and those mentioned took refuge in their precious forests and valleys. Gorlak sneered, just as cowardly as ever, leaving everyone else to do the grunt work. Sharkey said that he knew of those that would sorely miss any elf's presence... especially high ranking ones.

Another piece of information that Gorlak was unaware of was the battle of Pelennor fields which was yet brewing in the deep earth, trembling beneath the pounding claws of Saruman's vast army that was heading towards Minas Tirith. Saruman planned to use any means he could to find the ring and his chief plan at the moment was to use noble hostages to draw out other nobles who would sureley be deeply involved with the whereabouts of the ring.

Gorlak glanced down at the cracked parchment he had recieved by crebain earlier. On it was instructions on how to find the hostages Sharkey wanted and their descriptions. He sneered and spat on the paper.

Legolas Greenleaf. Son of Lord Thranduil of the Mirkwood Realm. Blonde hair, usually dressed in green and brown, carries a bow, quiver and a white knife. Quiver is of brown leather embossed with the mirkwood's royal family emblem.

Elladan. Son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Dark hair, usually dressed in dark blues, carries bow and quiver.

Elrohir. Son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Exact description as above, Elladan and Elrohir are twins. To tell them apart, note thier weapons. Elladan carries a bow while Elrohir carries a sword.

That was easy enough for Gorlak. He had already heard rumours of these scum, seeing as he lived in an area which was close to lands populated by elves. Sharkey planned on sending him crebain with messages often, to inform him of the movements of the aforementioned scum. Again, Sharkey was very much a mystery to Gorlak and he did not know he posessed the power of a palantir.

"Move out you dregs of the earth!" Gorlaked roared to his motley bunch "Let's hunt some elf!".

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A/N: Yay first chapter done! Alright, Saruman still has his palantir and did not throw it out the window of Orthanc, okay? Okay. Also, Saruman was actually called Sharkey by his affiliates who corrupted the Shire and so that's where it comes from. 

"Crebain" are large black birds of crow-kind that have some intelligence, and were apparently used as spies by Saruman during the War of the Ring.

By the way... this story is set in the War of the Ring if you haven't noticed yet ;)

Please submit your review and tell me exactly what you think! Thanks!


	2. Wagging of Tongues

A/N: We already know what's going on with Gandalf and Pippin and also Gorlak and his "Motley Crew"… ah haha! (slaps thigh) (crickets) What? Oh c'mon guys! Motley Crue is a band! Really! Anyways, this chapter will focus on the three hunters and their adventures in the Paths of the Dead. Please RR!

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**Chapter Two**

**Wagging of Tongues **

The night was as obscure as the silent host following the seemingly solitary companions. Occasional green tinged shimmers were the only things that betrayed them. What a strange sight it must have been, an elf, a dwarf and a man traveling at a break-neck speed over the plains with what seemed to be a heat wave racing them in the frosty mirk. The man signaled to the other two and as they all slowed so did the shadow. Drawing their horses up to the border of some trees and picketing them, they quickly drew lots and after partially heard rumblings from the shorter one, the other two cast themselves on the ground while the dwarf begrudgingly leaned against the rough and peeling bark of a tree.

Another strange sight: a dwarf now guarding his comrades against a dimly coruscating mirage. The hours slowly departed and after what seemed forever to the head nodding dwarf, his shift was over. He stumbled over to the pair and resisted a side swiping kick at the loudly snoring one. Instead he squatted near the blonde one and cautiously waved a hand over his face, not really sure if he was already awake – those wide irises staring straight ahead were enough to startle anyone. Gimli stood up carefully.

"Ah, yes… elves… what's the matter with them anyways? Always nancing around and batting their eyes at anything that grows" he began somewhat timidly. "And that singing! I honestly don't think their precious trees can hear them and will therefore flourish because of their 'nuturing'!" he boasted, now quite boldly. He started circling the elf in a meandering way, just waiting for him to crack. "And what of - " he started.

"Of those cantankerous dwarves?" Legolas mused as he casually stood up and stretched his back. "Yes they're quite obnoxious, I agree. Especially when they're cooing to their 'exquisite' lumps of ore, in only what I can guess is their way of making it more valuable somehow".

Gimli spluttered and indignation radiated from his features. "AHA! I knew it, I knew it!" Gimli proclaimed, regaining his composure. "You cannot fool me master elf, I knew you were tormenting me, playing your mind games! How long were you scrutinizing me?" he asked, squinting his eyes in mock untrust.

"Long enough to know that you were getting more sleep than I. But all is well, for I was already refreshed and I was just making sure you fulfilled your duties. You never can be too sure with Dwarves… very shady creatures if you ask me." Legolas remarked, strolling over to where Gimli was still hunched over and smirked slightly, cobalt eyes dancing. Gimli muttered something incoherent and settled himself on the ground as comfortably as he could and soon he and Argorn created a symphony of pealing rumbles. Legolas groaned inwardly and followed suit of Gimli earlier and leaned against the rough bark of the blackened tree. The shimmer seemed to have disappeared from the silent host of dead men and even though this may sound like good news, it was not to Legolas.

"Wonderful," he thought, "if they attack now I will not be able to perceive it. But then again, I don't think three would have much of a chance against countless scores of the undead". His mouth twitched in amusement. "But then again Dwarves are fairly stubborn… and hardy for that matter" he mused, remembering the little game he and Gimli had partaken in at Helm's Deep. "And Aragorn would fight fearsomely, if only to see Undomiel one last time" he decided, already having known that his faith was completely in her. His heart was light at the thought of Arwen's restless heart finally finding solace in another. Especially in one he knew would be true, no matter what. For even though Legolas and Arwen were not meant to be, they had formed a deep friendship over the countless years, starting after many crossings through their father's reigns. At this memory Legolas frowned and remembered the last time he had seen her or her family. At the Council of Elrond. Yes, that was it. But what had become of Elladan and Elrohir, her brothers? They were present at the council, yet they had very little imput and seemed to only observe; they had stayed in Rivendell. Surely, Legolas thought, they would feel the need to be involved with the War of the Ring. Especially since they were some of a younger generation, like him and Arwen. Legolas finally closed off these thoughts and resigned himself to hearken to the silent night.

* * *

Gorlak snatched the parchment from the ruffled looking crebain preched on his arm and hastily shook it off, forcing it to spread it's wings and take flight. He read the message with squinted eyes.

Ten miles west you will come across two of those you are hunting; Elladan and Elrohir. Theyhave set offfrom Imladris is hopes to aid the men in the upcoming battle. Fortuneately they are traveling alone. At this moment they are resting in oak trees with their mounts concealed in nearby bushes. Proceed with extreme caution, for even two elves pose a dangerous threat. Heed my words and restrain yourselves: I want them alive.

Sharkey

Gorlak crushed the paper and widened his nostrils, trying to catch a stray scent on the night breeze. Nothing so far. "Furnash!" Gorlak hollered. A slightly shorter and swarthier orc came lurching towards him, having the appearance of limping because of his one shorter leg. Various metal chinking noises accompanied him, most noticeably the rusting chain dangling from his ear and attatched to his dilapidated mail coat, which gave off a dull clanking sound.

"Yes Cap'n?" Furnash drawled, cracking his knuckles.

"I have a job for you" Gorlak replied tonelessly. "Take half of my band and travel ten miles west and you'll find some elven scum. There are two of them, I want them taken as hostages and brought back to me. Me and the other half will meet you where the Gladden River joins the Anduin by tomorrow night." He ordered, taking out his chipped scimitar and running his scaly thumb lightly across the blade. He licked his cracking lips. Gorlak didn't trust anyone, including Furnash, but Furnash was one of the few ones in his lot that wasn't a complete and mindless killing machine.

"Aye Cap'n, 'twill be done" Furnash began, snatching the chance to rise higher in the ranks. A haughty smile crossed his weathered face and he started to turn away.

"Furnash…" Growlak growled.

"Aye?" Furnash replied uncertainly.

"Fail and I'll see to it that you're hung with your intestines used as a rope" Gorlak finished threateningly and stalked away. The smirk fell from Furnash's gruesome lips.

The night was cool, the breeze whispering through the trees and tugging at Elrohir's dark hair. If only he or Elladan had been listening to what it was trying to tell them. A slight shift in position gave Elrohir away, he hadn't fallen into the deep elvish slumber yet. But he could feel Elladan's nearby prescnce and knew that he was most definitely doing what he was not. Elrohir sighed and turned on his side, letting the sturdy branches of the oak cradle him. Rest began to overtake him and on the very brink of dreaming, he thought he heard twig snap… but it must have been only the horses, restless as he was.

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A/N: Ah! Wake up Elrohir! Yes you'll have to wait to see what happens…

Please RR? (smiles sweetly)


	3. Ambushed

A/N: I WAS going to continue with everyone Legolas and co. and make the attack an even longer cliffhanger, but I decided not to be cruel and get on with it. At least for this time… mua haha! Once again, if you read it, review it! Or I might just have to continue with evil cliffhangers… mua haha!

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**Chapter Three**

**Ambushed**

Furnash and his company crept as silently as they could through the growth of trees and dense shrubbery. He watery eyes kept to the tree tops, scanning them easily with his natural night vision, for anything or anyone that was alive. But they found the horses before they found their owners. "We can't kill the horses 'ere, 'em cursed _elves_ will wake with all the noise!" Furnash cursed silently to the others.

"Why don' we jus kill the elves first den?" a particularly stupid orc asked, scratching his hairless head.

"Imbecile!" Furnash hissed at the offending orc, "do you wan' tah be trampled by 'em once they hear us attacking! Besides, Gorlak said he wanted them **alive**! Think for once!". They offender knew enough to realize that he had been insulted and scowled. "'Right, this is the plan. Turga, you take 20 of those fools and position yerselves 'roun the horses. I'll take the rest 'o you lot and we'll surround the tree from the ground and the trees 'roun it. You hafta watch for those sneaky elves, they can squirm their way out of 'most all situations." Furnash ordered, "then when I give the signal, Turga's lot will exterminate 'em horses and we'll take care of the elves" he finished and after arranging his group crept off silently trhoguh the undergrowth with a host of twenty orcs trailing. Turga and the other twenty surrounded the unfortunate horses.

* * *

Pippin's heart sank into the deepest pits of his stomach as soon as he saw them coming. They had been successful in dispatching the fairly large number of creatures running amok in the city, but that seemed to be only a scouting group. Pippin had climbed to one of the brightly blazing fire beacons and almost fell off when he saw the enormous black smudge still far, far away, creeping slowly across the plains.

* * *

Everyone was in position. The seemingly peaceful night air was penetrated with the gruesome smell of many orcs' heavy breathing, all waiting in blood lust induced tenseness. The glittering eyes of the wretched orcs who had been chosen to scale the trees forgot their fear and hunched in preparartion. Furnash's raised arm fell in signal. The foul and grimy bodies of the orcs sprang into a delirium, working faster than one would have expected their race to. But not fast enough for the elves. As soon as the first viciously clawed hand raked itself against Elrohir's back trying to grasp him, he arched in surprise and cried in alarm, springing up and away while instinctively clinging to one of the thick branches for support. Immediately awakened by his brother's cry Elladan started and took in the situation in a glance. They were vastly outnumbered. He quickly grabbed for his bow but only got two shots or so before a flying knife thrown at a great speed sliced the string.

"Elrohir!" Elladan yelled while motioning to his brother and kicking at the advancing orcs in the process. Elrohir understood completely and tossed him one of his smaller knives and continued to hack away at the offending creatures with his sword, which was his preferred weapon. Furnash laughed evilly at the struggling elves – he knew they would soon be contained. But the horses were never meant to be. For they were horses of elves and were stronger than the average. After the first few rapid slices marred their gleaming silvery hides, they rolled to their feet neighing and snorting and reared up, knocking down many orcs in the process with their powerful legs. They continued to kick out in all directions beserkly and trampled themselves a path through the dead bodies of the dim witted orcs, racing back to their home in Rivendell. If one could have seen Furnash pale under his permanent filth, they would have.

"Elladan! We must get higher, we cannot hold them off forever!" Elrohir called desperately to his brother, his normal calm disappearing once he realized they were in a very bad situation. He continued to dispatch many orcs with short strokes of his sword.

"I agree, but the tree won't go up forever, then what? They are all around us, even in the surrounding trees!" Elrohir didn't answer and concentrated on a particularly ulgy grinning head and wiped (or rather sliced) it off his face. He had been in tight situations before, but this was bad. The fact that he knew they weren't going to make it made him fight even more viciously, and Elladan who seemed to realize the same thing, copied him. Elladan darted his eyes around trying to decide who was the biggest advancing threat and after choosing one, thrusted his knife into the disgusting body with a sickening slurping noise. The impaled creature began to fall off the tree and Elladan made a sharp snapping motion with his wrist to draw the knife out. But it didn't happen. The knife was lodged into several ribs and he could either fall or let go. He chose the latter. He turned his head despairingly to see how Elrohir was faring, just in time to see another throwing knife come flying through the air straight towards him.

"Elrohir!" he shouted, knowing his words couldn't save him. But instead of striking his unprotected chest, it sliced at his hands grasping his sword. Elrohir gasped in pain and the only thing that saved him from dropping it and loosing their only weapon was his training. But another knife came flying towards him once more, striking the same spot, harder this time and that was enough. During Elladan's brief lapse of concentration, he failed to see the scimitar slice his foot until he felt it. Yelling in pain, he quickly grinded the heel of his boot into the orc's head with his good foot and inched backwards even further. Through his mental torment of helplessness and burning sensation in his foot, Elladan realized that where they could have fatally injured Elrohir, they didn't, only causing him minimal damage. The same thing went for himself, he would have a harder time walking with his foot injury. He shuddered; being captured by orcs and at their mercy was much worse than being killed by them. Set into this action by this thought he called yelled to Elrohir once more, this time agreeing with his previous plan, "get up the tree as far as you can!".

Elrohir heard his brother's agreement and nodded, grimacing at the pain this action caused. "How did this happen?" he wondered, still in shock, "there haven't been any orcs here for the longest time… Father will need to be alerted of this immediately". He grasped the branch as well as he could and hoisted himself up. But his bleeding hands slipped, leaving bloody trails down the bark which dug into his lacerated hands as he tried to hang on – and failed. He dropped to the nearest branch and was instantly pulled down by the surging orcs.

"Elrohir, no!" Elladan cried once again in vain. He stared in shock, forgetting his position in the tree as Elrohir was knocked out by Turga's iron fist and bound. His eyes bored into Turga, the one with the throwing knives at his belt. He was the assaulter. He came to this conclusion just as an orc uttered a guttural war cry and lunged out of a neighbouring tree and tackled Elladan. The merciful ground rushed towards him and he knew no more.

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A/N: Dun dun duuun… 


	4. A Woven Prison

A/N: Sorry the last chapter was so short, I think I had a minor writers block. Anyways, for all of you who've been hinting at twin angst, here's a taste… finally! Yes this is the darkest chapter that's up so far, but there will be more in the story, you can count on that! Please R&R and thanks to those who have been with this story from the beginning!

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**Chapter Four**

**A Woven Prison**

Stench. A horrible overpowering stench was the first thing that Elrohir was aware of. Then the grogginess that was cloaking his thoughts, making it difficult for him to decipher anything. "Typical, a black out drug" mused Elrohir, somewhat unworriedly; most of them didn't have any serious side effects. "But then what happened? I don't remember anything but orcs… lots and lots of orcs". But slowly images flickered in his mind like light bulbs that were burning out and he relived the knives slicing at his hand and the surge of orcs grasping at him with eager hands. "It could be worse; I have been in worse situations before. Besides, I'm not alone" he thought, glancing at Elladan who was still under the drug's power, "We'll make it through, like we always have". He grinned grimly as he stretched his memory to thousands of years ago, back when he and Elladan were born. Their births were widely celebrated as was any elven birth, seeing as there were few. He and Elladan hd been captured by orcs around the time they were ten, but there were only three of them that time and those ones were fairly dull. The orcs had found them playing outside with one of their mother's amulets that hung on a chain of mithril.

(flashback)

Elladan and Elrohir sat huddled at the base of a knarled tree, watching the spectacle before them. The largest orc held the amulet high in the air trying to keep it away from the other two orcs. "I found it on 'em first, s'mine!" argued the one who had current possession of it.

"But who was the one who found 'em? ME!" shouted another. The two gave each other death glares and the third, sensing a fight, intervened.

"Arh, c'mon! There's no sense in fightin' eachother! The enemy is 'em elves!" the third reasoned.

"Yer right," said the one with the amulet. He and the one who had prevented a potential blood bath walked away, which left the one standing there still with his mouth hanging open. Muttering, he suffered himself to keep watch over the twins. Plopping himself right beside Elladan, it was no wonder they stared.

"Watcha lookin' at!" he spat contemptuously at them.

"I was just wondering why you let them take Nana's necklace" Elladan began, not all that shyly.

"Why not? I wouldn' have given' it to you anyhow" the orc replied.

"Well then why didn't you take it for yourself? Are you not as strong as the others?" Elldan reasoned daringly.

"What!" the orc shouted, "I'm stronger than both 'o 'em rats put together!" he claimed.

"Then why didn't you take it?" Elladan questioned, once again trying his luck. The orc looked livid and Elrohir feared he might strike his brother for a moment, but luckily he started laughing, somewhat good naturedly. Elrohir was extremely suspicious and feared the worse.

"What do I hafta explain to you kids? But it's good yeh have brains, we'll get lots for yeh! Not tha' those who are lookin' to buy would want yeh fer yer brains…" he finished. He smiled maliciously and ran his tongue against razorblade teeth.

"Well since we have more brains than you," Elladan began, but was cut off by a withering death glare from the orc. Elladan waved his hand at him to tell him that he wasn't finished. "SINCE we're smart, you should listen to my advice" Elladan finished.

"Well what is it then?" the orc growled, put off by the elfling's presumptions.

"That necklace is worth much, much more than we are. **Much** more. It was my Nana's most valuable necklace. Elrohir marvelled at the mind game Elladan had conjured.

"He'll get us out of this yet!" he thought, squeezing his brother's arm that he still clung to. The orc seemed to ponder this, for his face seemed to appear almost thoughtful.

"But there are two of 'em… that suckup is just pretendin' to help the 'boss' but he jus' wants to get his filthy paws on it fer 'imself!" he muttered.

"We could make a distraction to bring one of them to us" Elrohir piped up. The orc stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Heh, didn' see yeh there, you bein' so quiet! I'd trust you more than this smart mouth" he said jerking his thumb towards Elladan, "even though his plan is good".

"I'll let you get positioned, then I'll start yelling and one will come to see what's happening while the other will protect the necklace. The you can get him" Elrohir reasoned. The orc grinned, which just looked like he was baring his teeth at them.

"I hope you kids aren't sold to someone too nasty!" he guffawed and slunk away with greed in his eyes. The two brothers promptly ran away.

(end flashback)

Elrohir was suddenly jerked from his reverie as a clawed hand grabbed a portion of the net and started prodding him, along with Elladan. Elrohir instinctively feigned unconciousness and the foul orc who was doing the searching was none the wiser and soon left. For Elrohir **was** tangled in a net with his brother. Not a very good one at that, but there were so many layers to it that he could hardly see the light through the small holes. He quietly took in his surroundings, noting that they were unguarded for the moment; the orcs seemed to be distracted with the issue of who should be first in the line for a meal. He could hear water nearby and it sounded as if it were fast moving. "It must be a river" he decided. Next he tugged at the thick netting and realised that it would be a lost cause to try to rip it. It was stronger than it looked.

A soft moaning suddenly cut off his thoughts and he searched for the cause. But he didn't have to look far, it was right next to him; it was Elladan. "Good, he's waking up" Elrohir thought. But moaning quickly changed to sudden coughing. When his coughing didn't subside and only grew louder, he became alarmed. Elrohir quickly rolled over and shook Elladan who had his eyes closed. That was not good. Mild drugs didn't cause elves to close their eyes, they should have been open, like he was in his dream state. Only drugs that seriously affected you or caused you to have a bad reaction would result in closed eyes. Panicked Elrohir shook Elladan by his shoulders, trying to wake him, while also trying to cover his mouth to smother his coughs. But Elladan pitched forward, smashing his head into his own due to the fact he could not breathe. "On the plus side, he's awake" Elrohir thought as he grimaced and rubbed his head. Elladan was looked wildly around and was breathing heavily when he made his first attempt to speak.

"Where… are we?" he gasped, still trying to catch his breath.

"Captured by orcs… do you not remember?" Elrohir replied, grasping his shoulder. Elladan shook his head slightly, but the motion was too much and he fell backwards.

"Uh… I'm so dizzy… and it feels like… someone's stepping on my chest" Elladan moaned. Elrohir was really worried now.

"You're having a bad reaction to the drug - " Elrohir began.

"Drug?"

"Yes, I'm guessing we were drugged when the orcs captured us, they wanted to make sure we stayed unconscious for a long time."

"I… remember now. The one with… the throwing knives…" Elladan suddenly sat up and grasped Elrohir's hand, remembering his wounds.

"It's fine, really…" Elrohir began. But Elladan had caught sight of it and held onto it tighter. Through the caked blood he could tell that it was bad. The lacerations sliced deep and long, the mark of a fair marksman.

"How is… this fine?" he gasped, partially from his lack of breath and partially from the sight of the telltale green discolouration that was forming in the cuts. "It's getting infected… and… swollen… we have to… get some kind of herb for it... unless you want to be short…. A hand" he breathed. Apparently the explaination was too much for his already labouring lungs and he burst into a fit of dry coughs. Elrohir quickly grabbed him and tried soothing the coughs by rubbing his back in large circles and leaning him against himself. If the orcs heard they were awake, who knew what would happen. But it was too late. Elrohir pushed Elladan's head down as a knife came stabbing though the thick net and sawed its way through.

"Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauties!" an orc chortled at them. "Now we know how your kind are, with your pride and all, but we jus' got 'special orders' from Sharkey himself to break tha' pride! So who's first? Arr c'mon! Who's the one who was makin' at tha' noise? Yew righ'?" he said,grabbing Elladan. But that was a mistake and he was quickly rewarded with an elbow in the ribs. But again this was too much for Elladan and he doubled over coughing. Several orcs took advantage of this opportunity and piled on him. Elladan knew this was not going to be good, when he could literally feel all the air crushed out of his lungs, along with a rib. If he could have screamed he would have. Elrohir thrashed out at the orcs holding and jabbing at him while yelling to Elladan. He watched in horror as they dragged his semi-limp body to a nearby tree that has small but sharp nails embedded in it. He spotted the whip at the trunk.

* * *

A/N: Once again… dun dun duuuun… 


	5. Suspicions

A/N: Yes, it IS an update. Can you believe it? Whoa! But hey, it's the holidays and I'm lazy. But alas! Here is the next chapter (yes I did just say 'alas'). Thanks to Tanwen-whitefire, Deepbluesomething, Ellfine, Owlsrock and Hyperative Forever for reviewing!

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**Chapter Five**

**Suspicions**

The flaxen fields continued to speed by. The night had been uneventful, making Legolas' watch predictably dull. Yet the shifting sable skies that night had radiated mystery. Legolas had gazed into it, trying to interpret the darkness just as Elladan was looking at the same sky, the last thing he saw before hitting the ground. Legolas tore his mind from the previous night in an attempt to relieve his uneasiness, only to hear the pounding of their horse's hooves, which reverberated endlessly in his skull.

* * *

Gorlak ground his heavily booted foot into the mud impatiently and spat into the river. They were late. He hoped for Furnash's sake that he was just late and not trying to pull something. Not that he ever cared for anyone's well being; it was just that his reputation as a "no bull" kind of a leader was at stake. But no sooner had this thought crossed his small but shrewd mind, he saw Furnash's group jogging towards them. "It's about stinkin time!" Gorlak called from across the short distance separating them. "Did you stop for sport or sumthin? Cause if you lot did…" Gorlak drew his stubby finger in a slashing motion across his neck.

"Of course we didn', captain. We followed your commands as order'd" Furnash simpered, in what he hoped was a convincing tone.

"Enough of yer snivellin'! Show me them elves I want'd!" Gorlak sneered. Furnash scowled.

"Turga!" Furnash yelled. Turga dragged a thick mossy net that apparently held the captives, to the feet of Gorlak. Gorlak glared hatingly at the jumble of net and bodies and kicked them about, seeing to it that they were each individually bound at the wrists, ankles and knees as well as gagged with some foul looking rags. They were both unconcious and drugged. And on their backs. Gorlak showed what looked like a half grin that was suspiciously evil looking.

"Not half a bad job, Furnash" Gorlak said with a suspicious lack of malevolence. Gorlak dragged the net roughly through the stinking mud and assigned the task of dragging it to several lesser orcs. Meanwhile, Furnash had been smirking smugly, not noticing Turga's building rage, who was lurking behind him. "Move out!" Gorlak ordered, "we're heading south!". He had received a message from Sharkey earlier that day that the last captive they needed was fairly close to their destination, which was Isengard.

* * *

Saruman sat it a high chamber of Isengard; his mind focused on the glowing and swirling palantir in front of him. He was searching, using all his will on trying to pinpoint the location of the heir of Isildur. It was heavily rumored that he had perished long ago and that the stewards who forever rule Gondor, but he knew the truth. He did exist. And he would be a key part in the process of finding the location of the ring. He had already tried his hand at the king of Rohan, Theoden. But Gandalf, his previous comrade had put an end to that. He scowled at the memory but diverted his rage towards his palantir. For a second he thought he had succeeded… he caught a flicker of his face and mind but was soon shut off. The man had known. After a few minutes of frantic prodding without success, he gave up in disgust, covered the palantir and stalked away.

* * *

A/N: I've started focusing on Saruman's intent more, and hopefully Aragorn will come into play soon. 


	6. Racing the Night

A/N: Sorry for your twin fans… you'll have to wait for a while:P But Leggy here will console you I hope! By the way, just to clear things up, thoughts will be in ' these ' while conversation will be in " these " as normal. If I want something in asterisks in a side note or something, I will use ( brackets ) because they don't show up on when I upload the chapters.

**Foxhiei**: Glad that a newcomer has joined us, and I have no clue why it wouldn't let you review on the fifth chapter.

Warm welcomes to **Teha** and **Lynx Yamato** as well! And that's it. Just kidding! I love all you guys who haven't given up on me yet too!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Racing the Night**

Legolas experienced an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as soon as he had sat down on the damp, grassy terrain. And he had the right to, for he was once again on his watch. The feeling of uneasiness did not leave him as he had hoped, but he concluded that it would be pointless to alert Aragorn, for as wise as he was, he seemed to have a knack for doing the exact opposite of what he said, the worse part of it being that Legolas was almost always right. But Legolas thought this with a grin on his face, remembering some "incidents" when Aragorn had been living at Imladris – it was fairly ironic considering Elrond's expression had been the exact opposite of a grin.

* * *

The time had come and with it, Sharkey's urgent message: move out. Gorlak had chosen his most trusted comrades (well, the ones that he had partially inspired trust in anyways) and had started the hunt for the final elf. But this one apparently had more companions with him. 'Somethin' 'em other two had probly bin wishin' fer!' Gorlak cackled in his head. He had chosen Furnash to come with him as back up for himself personally (not that Gorlak ever planned to be out of the picture) and had left Turga with the other half of their group to catch up later; their task required speed. They would meet up later. But Gorlak was beginning to seethe inside with rage directed towards Furnash, his leg was bringing their impossible pace down slightly. Anything slight in this quest was magnified 100 times to Gorlak, he could not fail. But nevertheless, Furnash was determined not to be the subject of ridicule and silently bore the dull burning pain in his shorter leg.

* * *

A loud snoring continued to scrape Legolas's eardrums and he found himself wondering yet again why Aragorn hadn't woken up yet. But then answer became apparent instantly; they were really both snoring, they were just snoring in unison. 'I'll have to inform his majesty that he has yet another title, "Wheezer of the West" ' he thought, chuckling to himself out loud by accident. With his expression mimicking that of a deer in the path of an oncoming cart full of drunken hobbits, Legolas waited with baited breath as what he had feared came true; he had disturbed them slightly and one of them had changed their breathing patterns and now the two separate "melodies" were easily identifiable. "Great, I expect we'll be attacked any moment _now_" he mumbled. On the plus side, the cool night air thankfully soothed his slightly frayed nerves. On the not so good side, Legolas forgot that he _was_ almost always right.

* * *

They had crossed the Greyflood earlier that night and they were now ¾ of the way to the river Isen. Gorlak knew that Isengard was somewhere to the east, as Sharkey had informed him in the orientation he had received earlier from yet another crebain. A small doubt began to knaw at him in the back of his mind, after all, the crebain were coming very often. 'How is he managin' all 'o dis?' Gorlak thought. But Gorlak had never questioned Sharkey's authority before and he didn't feel like starting now. Actually, he just didn't want to start understanding the consequences right then. But that didn't matter; they were close to their prey now.

* * *

"AAAAAOUGH!" Gimli promptly exclaimed as he woke up. Legolas snapped his head towards the disturber of the peace.

"Must you be so loud? The whole point of having watches is that so we can be alerted of an enemy before they are alerted of us" Legolas said, his eyes smilingly at the ruffled dwarf.

"I am not even going to dignify that with a response right now, I am too tired to wage any sort of war right now, physical or mental – even with an elf!" Gimli grumbled trying to keep his eyelids up.

"That is a pity, for no other elves will be able to take advantage of this wonderful occasion" Legolas replied, finally standing up.

"Ha ha." Gimli mumbled. Legolas' expression instantly became mockingly distressed.

"What's this? You really are not going to make any attempt to oust me?" Legolas gasped, his eyes widening. "Perhaps I should take your watch as well and let you have your beauty sleep if you really are in desperate need" he concluded. Gimli's eyes shrank to slits.

"Are you calling me _lazy_, laddie?" Gimli suggested, just daring Legolas to say yes. But instead he burst out laughing. Gimli was not amused.

"Are you implying that - " but Legolas stopped short, suddenly hearing something that had escaped him in his conversation with Gimli, a faint whistling sound that he had been the cause of for many years and had always ended with a gurgled scream from an offending orc. This time it was almost the other way around. Whirling around and leaping to the side, a black tipped arrow sailed past his head and past Gimli. Legolas instantly whipped out his long white knife and searched for the offender, but everything was still, just for a split second before a mass of orcs leapt forward out of the shadows.

"Aragorn!" Gimli roared at the man on the ground, and reached for his axe. But it was in a pile with Legolas' bow and quiver… which was almost immediately seized. Left with no alternative, Gimli started laying in on the orcs with his fists, pummeling mercilessly and using his thick helmet to his advantage. Legoals was doing fairly well with his knives, but there was no way any of them would survive long. Argorn was doing fairly well as well, over taking Legolas with his much, much longer blade. Trying to survive was the only thing that mattered now.

'This is bad' Legolas thought grimly as he sliced the head off a screeching orc and was rewarded with a small spray of black blood on the side of his face. 'How long can we keep this up?' he thought, but he already knew the answer; not long. But then a wild thought came into his mind. The dead. Where were they anyways? He couldn't see them at the moment, but that meant nothing when they had the ability to turn invisible. Aragorn. Aragorn had to rouse them. "Aragorn!" he shouted as he kneed yet another orc in the stomach and punched another in the face. Legolas' heart sank as he knew that there was no way anyone would hear him.

Aragorn had his own problems and could not afford to spare any scrap of his mind to anything else except the ragged intake of his breath and the slicing motion he was using with his sword. He hadn't sustained any major injuries yet, but the little ones were starting to add up.

Legolas repeatedly stabbed an orc in front of him that refused to die and finally pulled out his knife for the last time, with a sickening slurping noise, the telltale noise of tissue clinging to the blade. That's when everyone pulled away from him. 'I seriously doubt they're giving me a break' he thought glancing around for their reason. Once again, he heard the low whistle, only a little later this time because of the sound effects of war. And once again he whirled around, just in time to take the arrow that was aiming for a non vital part of his back in the chest.

Legolas stared unbelievingly at the arrow in the right side of his chest. 'I don't remember that being there before' Legolas mused, stupefied with temporary shock. 'What supreme craftsmanship…' he noticed as his gaze continued to rest on the arrow shaft. But the shock quickly wore off and a wave of tingling pain in which his blood was the boiling water quickly hit him and he gasped for the escaping air. But with the pain came his reflex to retaliate and managed to wound one orc in his lunge for the receding host before his eyes began to unfocus and he slowly sank to his knees. As Legolas sank down, so did Gorlak's excuse for a heart. That did not look good. 'Why _did_ he have to turn!' Gorlak thought frantically, as his stomach notified him that it was ready to heave. Furnash quickly took over and had the man and the dwarf tied to a tree, with only the loss of a mere 5 orcs in the process; Aragorn and Gimli were too beat up and shocked to inflict anymore damage. Furnash figured that Gorlak wouldn't want them killed in case they weren't supposed to be – he had already messed up enough already. 'This is the end' Gorlak thought, nauseated. 'Of me an' the elf'.

* * *

A/N: Ahhhhhh! It feels nice to leave you with yet another cliffhanger. Thanks for all the reviews guys, it's extremely nice to have encouragement. But it would also be awesome if I could have more specific compliments (or suggestions) such as which parts you liked in particular and why, whether it was the description, writing style, literary device or whatever. Thank you for the support! 


	7. Bridled Resolution

A/N: Well, I'm back. And no, this isn't Sam in disguise (wink)! Anyways, I know I haven't updated for a while, but I just didn't have the heart. The past month has been pretty hectic and emotionally draining and I think it finally caught up with me. But I feel up to the next chapter now, so here it goes!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**Bridled Resolution**

Swirling images drifted pointlessly in Legolas' mind's eye. Glittering blades kept slashing at his vision as he watched himself fight grimly with the orcs. 'Is my life flashing before my eyes for a reason? Is this it?' Legolas found himself thinking, even his thoughts somewhat slurred. Then came the pull back, with him standing alone in the ring of his enemies. Inevitably, the arrow came next. Although he had watched all of this without any of his senses responding, when the arrow struck him, he felt it at that exact moment. The world jerked violently back to his struggling eyes in a blur of shadowy shapes and blazing fires that contrasted horribly. It felt as if a cave troll had been honing his nails for just such an occasion and had expertly pierced one through his chest, like a vein of fire working its way into his core. Unable to breathe, he turned onto his side and gulped for the air that wasn't circulating into his lungs. Finally getting his wind back, he felt the unfamiliar feeling of something foreign in his chest. It was something that shouldn't be there, it was invading him, plaguing his being. With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, Legolas' fingers fumbled across his suede outer shirt, his fingers becoming stickier as they went. One finger finally struck the wooden shaft, sending vibrations of warning through his chest, as if it were a part of him. It was embedded on the right side of his chest; any further left and he would have not have been able to come to that conclusion. Legolas grit his teeth and continued to investigate the foreign object; but shock suddenly gripped him as he realized the object wasn't so foreign. Forcing his strained eyes to seek the arrow, his suspicions were confirmed as his eyes found the familiar green and yellow fletching. They had used his own weapon against him. 'How ironic it is, that one day I would feel how so many before me have'. Then a clawed hand dug into his own hand, and hauled him to a semi upright position.

* * *

The lonely wind whistled in Aragorn's ears, taking advantage of every fault in his clothing. Upon reaching to pull his cloak over himself, he found he could not. In fact he was not resting on the ground while Gimli was taking his watch, but tied to a tree with a branch sticking in his back. When pitching forward did nothing he calmed his mind and reviewed what had just happened. They had been attacked. They were outnumbered. Legolas had fallen. And then the orcs had taken advantage of their momentary shock and tied them to a tree. His hand scraped against Gimli's elven cloak and his theory was complete. The endless plains seemed even more barren then they had before. The sky held the dusk of morning on the verge, but it did not hold the promise of the unveiling of the sun. The light had gone out that night. A brisk wind sharply shook Aragorn out of his reverie and stung his eyes.

Straining at his bonds were useless; these orcs seemed to have wanted to get the job done right the second time. 'Is this really how it will end? Will I die in torment, knowing my lifelong friend will suffer and die as will countless others who were depending on me? Or will this mortal shell succumb to the elements first?' The enormity of his responsibility chose an inopportune moment to strike him and he felt it like a physical blow. 'This is not a good time to break down' he thought giving himself a mental shake, but still felt the moisture at the corner of his eyes and the growing weight on his shoulders mock him. He should have seen this weakness coming. He had relied to heavily on his ability to bend everything to his will and his ability had started to crack when the King of the Dead first rejected his summons. Legolas' strong hand on his shoulder. Legolas had understood everything, knowing him since he was a child. It was uncanny how silent he could be, yet decipher all the complexities before anyone else would even start thinking about what the first step would be. And now who knows where he was. Or where his body was.

* * *

Gorlak was astonished when the captive being struck out at him with his other arm as he dragged him up with the other; he had used the motion as leverage. But instead of being enraged at the elf for striking him, he winced inwardly, knowing his efforts were in vain seeing as he was wearing armor and probably only succeeded in hurting himself. And he judged himself to be right when a ragged grunt was emitted from the shaking form. Gorlak shoved him back on the ground, seeing as he was conscious and would have to be restrained. Calling over two of his men, he ordered them to each take a hold of the struggling elf's shoulders. He noted their sneers of contempt and the fire in their eyes as they approached and quickly quenched their anger with a glare of his own.

Legolas met Gorlak's eyes. Gorlak stared right back into his eyes with grim yet troubled incentive. 'He wants me to live. That cannot be good, it is better off to be killed by orcs rather than kept for some foul purpose' Legolas thought gritting his teeth, preparing to resist their attempts fully. Legolas pushed against the spiky fists pinning down his shoulders as best as he could with his failing consciousness, grunting with seething anger and with flailing legs trying to find Gorlak. Gorlak leaned over him, trying to scrape up his vague memories of medical knowledge. It had been a long time since he had to save someone, rather than end their life. Gorlak finally shoved one of his hands on the right side of Legolas' chest and grasped the bottom on the arrow shaft. One… two…

A raw howl dominated the already loud noises of the orc camp and all fell silent. Gasping sobs wracked Legolas' body after his own arrow was torn from his body. The pounding of rushing blood in his head blocked out all else except for the excruciating feeling of layers of flesh being torn almost through. His head lolled forward, his raw throat unable to utter a word, and his vision was filled with a flood of crimson.

Gorlak worked as fast as his stubby fingers would allow, tying the crude bandages around the elf's chest, trying to stem the flow. When that was not enough, he frantically tore at his own meager layers of clothing and tied them on to the now unconscious elf tighter. After all, what was a shirt compared to his life?

* * *

Gorlak bellowed orders at the troops, after receiving a confirmation from Sharkey as to the last elf's capture and where they were going next. Their path was now straight to Isengard, the fortress of Sharkey. The plan was to go ahead without Turga and the other half and meet them there later. Gorlak was fine with that wanting to get their elf, apparently Legolas Thranduillion, to more advanced medical aid as soon as possible. 'But why does Sharkey want 'em in one piece?' Gorlak questioned the dim morning.

* * *

A/N: Yes I decided to continue with Legolas in this chapter! I'm not sure if you noticed or not, but the plot didn't progress all that much, but ends were tied up and description was laid on heavy! As was the angst… but hey, I needed something that would be true to its listed genre, n'es pas?

By the way, fletching is the feathers on the end of an arrow, if you weren't sure. I thought the fact that the arrow was actually Leggy's was a nice, but cruel twist of fate!

Thank you to the reviewers from the last chapter, but thanks especially to **_Viresse_** for the detailed description of what you thought! Oh and one more thing, I stopped at my usual 550 words, but then I pushed myself and I wrote almost triple that amount in total! Be proud, this is a big accomplishment!


	8. Dawning Despair

A/N: Hello again, if there is anyone still reading this, we are back to our favourite twins in this chapter! If you have a weird obsession with torture or something,there will be a bit in this chap but not that much because this is just the beginning! But I don't see how anyone would like that stuff, it's unnatural... too kinky for ME (COUGH) weirdos... (wink)

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**Dawning Despair**

The dawn was agonizingly slow in breaking; Elrohir craved the sunlight that would filter through the seemingly impermeable darkness. They had met up with the other half of orcs the day before, Elrohir confirmed to himself. They had been drugged often, but sometimes they had been able to steal a few hours grace. In those fleeting and blurry hours, Elrohir had come to the conclusion that the orcs were not taking them to their final destination quite yet. It was dawn now and he strained his memory to the past night. 'Something important happened... something they were waiting for' Elrohir decided. While drifting in and out of conciousness, he had caught sights of a battle in which their unfortunate prey was so outnumbered that he hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of them. But later that night once the excitement had died down, he had heard something that had pierced his drug induced mental state, a raw voice crying it's protest to the celestial bodies above. Elrohir shivered and groped with his good hand for his brother. Catching the rough fabric of his cloak, he leaned in close to his head, trying to feel warm breath on his face. With bated breath he counted his breathing pattern... one... two...three... fou - there. There was the next inhale. Sighing his relief to no one, he laid back down. He had been concerned for him, he had reacted badly to the drug initially but now it was worse, with the constant druggings and the incident when they had first found conciousness after their ambush. Elrohir arched his back slightly, frowning at the raised weal on his back. 'But I was lucky' he thought as his fading concentration fell back to their awakening in the net two days earlier, when they had been captured and Elladan the first to be dragged to the tree.

(flashback)

The clouds obscuring the bright moon was a relief to Elladan but not so much to Elrohir. It was for Elladan in the sense that the orcs would recieve less pleasure in the viewing of his pain, but Elrohir wished for the light so he could study every single orc that participated and he could hunt them down later. The unknown orc began pushing Elladan towards the slightly spiked tree. Catcalls and roars of approval rang out from the makeshift orc camp at this sight, giving the orc's already brimming confidence a boost. 'You have to put up some sort of fight!' one part of Elladan's brain screamed at him. 'But I can hardly stand...' the other part argued with faltering faith. Luckily for Elladan the two parts compromised and he collapsed on the uneven roots beneath him. The orc had no tolerance for any sort of pathetic half-hearted attempts at escape.

'Arrh git up!' he grumbled, hooking his claws in his cloak and dragging him up once again, this time pulling him more than pushing. 'Yew know, I really don' wanta do 'dis to yah, but... orders are orders!' he cackled sarcastically and pushed him to the waiting bole in which they had reached. Tripping over his own wavering feet and the roots, Elladan connected with the trunk of the tree - and the small but keen nails in which they were housed. Elladan drew his escaping breath in quickly and instinctively pulled back, once again feeling like he couldn't breathe due to the fact that he was being deflated. But he was only able to escape the cold embrace of the glints of steel for moments until a fist slamming into his back forced him to meet them once again - this time piercing slightly different locations than the last time. Elladan closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, not the burning points in his stomach, shoulder leg and other various places.

'Don't worry, they aren't that long and won't do much damage' he reassured himself.

"Wat do yew think yer doin'? Takin' off 'is shirt?" hissed a nearby orc, who had apparently wanted to see the elves taught a lesson as well. His comment was directed to the orc who had dragged Elladan from the net and ultimately prioritized his desire for bloodshed above Furnash's rage at being disobeyed. "Et's goin ta be too obvious to Furnash if yeh don' leave 'im some protection. He'll 'ave yer 'ead if he knows yeh took 'em out for sport!". The offending orc stopped and a pouty look came across his face. The other, not knowing why he was helping the sadistic orc, stalked towards him and pushed him out of the way and finished tying the thick leather strips around Elladan. Elladan silently thanked the Valar that he had been spared some protection. But thanking them could only last so long, as the still unknown orc began to lay into his back with the over used whip. Elladan gritted his teeth as there was no escape to this slow, but gradually building pain. He could not press himself into the tree any more unless he wanted to dig the metal spurs into himself more, yet pulling himself back would only expose his back to the whip even more. Elladan shifted his attention to the protruding roots that seemed to be trying to escape the foul and dry soil, reaching out desperately for anything more wholesome. Just like he was.

(end flashback)

Elrohir started back to the present as Furnash's hand forced some foul looking paste from a crude container down his throat and in turn did the same for Elladan. Elrohir shook his head, reprimanding himself for allowing his mind to wander. 'But this isn't natural' he reminded himself, 'it must be the drug... it's affecting my mind'. No sooner had he finished these mental comments, he disobeyed them and drifted off to that night once more.

(flashback)

The image of Elladan's body with his slashed and bloody back being dragged back to himself in the net flashed before his blinking eyes. He had been brought back. But Elladan had only been exchanged for him. The same orc gurgled something at him that he could not comprehend (or maybe that was just his failing memory not comprehending?) and dragged him to the tree with the help of two others, seeing as he had not been affected as bad as Elladan. He had stared at the cruel steel, glistening with sticky torment, before his flesh was forced into them as well. Elrohir almost savoured the release from the mental agony of watching his brother being damaged. Elladan was a part of him, they were spiritually as one, one _always_ there for the other. Yet only one blissful slice of the whip was allowed as Furnash's ear splitting voice was heard for miles. He had seen a piece of paper that had fluttered out of the whipping orc's pocket and had naturally picked it up and read it. Too bad the orc had been too interested in causing Elrohir pain.

"Yew SCUM!" Furnash roared, "Sharkey sent ME a message an' YEW took et!". The orc that had sinned look utterly trapped. Furnash continued to shout and wave the battered parchment wildly in the air. "Let me guess... you saw one 'o 'em crebain comin' and figured it was Sharkey's latest orders, which means we'd be movin' out 'o here and yer chance fer play time would be over!". The orc seemed to wither even more and his silence wasn't helping. "I will NOT tolerate 'dis... MUTINY!" he yelled, spitting out the last word as if it were elvish. It was most defintely the end of the orc and he knew it by looking at Furnash's livid visage. If the colour of Furnash's face could be determined underneath his permanent grime, it would be an unpleasant eggplant.

"I..." the orc stuttered. Then turned tail and ran.

"GET 'IM" bellowed Furnash. It would be pointless to say that he survived that dogpile that ensued.

(end flashback)

* * *

Aragorn was still restless as the sharp wind continued it's ceaseless echoes. But at least he had company at this point.

"So you say we've been up here for how long?" questioned Gimli, frantically trying to loose a hand to scratch a particularly itchy spot in his beard.

"About half a day, it's almost morning now and we were tied here early last night" Aragorn sighed, his head sagging towards his left shoulder.

"Oh. Have those dead lads managed to loose themselves?" Gimli returned pointedly.

"Very amusing, master dwarf. I tried contacting them but they seem to have been swept off with the wind".

"Is that so... here ghosties! We need you now, so you can get up off of your lazy rear ends and untie us!". The wind howled in reply. Aragorn shook his head, half in amusement, half in disappointment that his attempt hadn't worked. But that didn't bother him long, for it was suddenly as if someone had ripped his scalp off and was peering inside his head into his every thought. Aragorn frantically brought up the mental shields he had been preparing for just such an occasion and held them in place until the violator of his mind gave up. But it was a while until he did; it was the longest time Aragorn had to keep up those barriers. Aragorn sighed as the intruder left.

"What's the matter?" Gimli questioned, a quizzical expression on his face.

"Someone has been trying to get into my head and read my thoughts. For what purpose I do not know, but there are many evils out there". Gimli looked surprised.

"How long has this been happening?".

"Just the past few days, I still don't know who it is, but I'm pretty sure their intentions aren't pure and that it is crucial that I keep my thoughts. I must command them to obey me". Suddenly, with Aragorn's last line speaking of obeying, the green evanescence of warriors and the lone king returned.

* * *

A/N: Whoa! Was that long or what? Woot! So I hope that tied up all those loose ends you were just dying to know about! (wink) As usual, please R&R, mentioning specific details you enjoyed! I was a little short of reviews last chapter... (cries in corner) 


	9. Camouflage

A/N: Alright I'm back! I don't know what happened, but truthfully, I kind of forgot to update… but I'm not the only one who forgot. Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains. Okay come on guys, really, that was my favorite horse! But more importantly, where are my faithful reviewers? On ellfine, foxhei, lynx yamato, blueeyedelf, shadowfaxgal and redwind730! I summon thee to me! Oh and hyperactiveforever, thank you for your antics! It cheered me up!

* * *

Chapter 9

Camouflage

They were coming. Finally, the moment that would turn the tide. They were the key to his wildest dreams, the ones that had played feverishly within his mind in the deep hours of the night, intensifying with every step they took towards his stronghold. For indeed it was a stronghold; Isengard was at it's strongest. His eyes glittered like scarabs, sunken in a mass of wrinkles and flesh, observing the obscure smudge on the stark wasteland that surrounded him. Saruman turned to the swirling orb which was placed on a handsomely carved stand of sable stone. Each footstep echoed endlessly in the many dark and secret halls and chambers of Orthanc. Each snow white boot rose slowly and fell purposefully, closely followed by the hem of pristine robs that dragged slightly.

He had reached his goal and he stretched a boney hand above the palantir with lengthy nails encircling the misty vision that began to form in it. A bushy eyebrow twitched slightly in concentration. The vision began to sharpen and he clearly saw the two individual nets dragged by the merciless orcs. One was bulkier than the other. Good. The vision faded as he released it and he crossed the sparkling floor, with the same leisure as before and reached for a decanter. He gazed lovingly at the rich red colour of the wine as it arced from the decanter to the goblet; it was his favourite colour. Crossing the floor once more, this time with the goblet in hand, Saruman settled himself on his cold throne. He would have a much bigger one when he ruled Middle Earth; it would only be fitting after all. He was an image of debonair knowledge, a sleek vision of cruel intelligence. He raised the goblet to his thin lips and drank. Upon lowering it, a stray trickle of liquid wound its way down from the corner of his mouth and stained the pale skin a deep red, revealing what lay behind the enchanting exterior.

* * *

The spiked gates loomed before Gorlak and his crew in the distance. Gorlak called Furnash to his side. "We made et ta Sharkey. Now I know tha' I'm theh boss aroun' here, but I hafta say, yew did well with 'em elves; yew really show'd 'em who was boss." Gorlak commented. Furnash's chest puffed with pride, but unfortunately so did his bad leg, but with pain and not pride. It had been hurting him a lot recently because of the many miles of travel.

"Well I jus' foller'd yer orders, captain, an' et worked out jes as yew said!" Furnash admitted with a little more than good humour. Gorlak replied with a chuckle that sounded as if it were scraping his throat.

"They didn' put up much 'o a fight, but you can be shur tha' one 'o my boys woulda taken care 'o em gladly, if they had - ".

"One 'o _yer_ boys?" Gorlak questioned, with eyes that were reducing to slits. But Furnash took no notice and prattled on nonchalantly, his tongue loosened by pride.

"Of course they would 'ave! In fact, I caught one 'o 'em in theh act sayin' et was Sharkey's order - ". Furnash stopped mid sentence, knowing the seriousness of what he had just said.

"So. Someone decided ta 'ave a little fun, did 'ee?" Gorlak whispered, venom on his breath.

"Nah, of cours' not… well, they uh… see wha' happen'd was…" Furnash stuttered.

"So yew betray'd me too? An' I thought yew coulda bin my backup. But instead yew went an' enjoyed yerself, by doin' exactly as I said not ta! Then yew lied ta me in yer report and even now yew lied ta me right ta my face." Gorlak was strangely subdued and this worried the quivering Furnash. He wondered how long his leg would hold him. By now the company had stopped and formed a ring around them instinctively. Even the sack carriers had dropped their burdens in order to get a closer look at what was happening. Gorlak hung his head, stared at the ground and sighed, like a disappointed father. Then his hand darted out and ripped the rusty chain that hung from Furnash's ear and was attached to his mail, out. Furnash screamed in pain and clutched at the remainder of his ear. Gorlak threw the chain to the ground carelessly and turned away, intending to continue their journey. 'Wha' a stupid place fer a chain anyways' he thought. But Furnash's pride (and body) was injured and he stupidly would not stand for that. Little did he know Gorlak was making an exception and letting him off easy. Furnash lunged at him and tackled him from behind. But Gorlak was bigger and was not knocked over, so he merely shook him off and began to lay into him with his fists and when he decided that was not enough, his feet. Furnash's armor did nothing for him and his fighting skills didn't do much either, compared to Gorlak. Gorlak walked away from the mess that used to be Furnash with a smile of his face. Now he would have someone to blame for the arrow wound on the blond elf. That's when he noticed the two sacks a couple of meters away and slowly progressing. He gave death glares to the two guards and they quickly retrieved them and dropped them in front of his feet. Gorlak gave a barking laugh to the sky and a sharp kick to each sack, two for the bigger one. They continued.

* * *

Legolas grit his teeth in anger, but mostly in pain. 'What an idiot that Gorlak is, he didn't even notice that he kicked me in the chest. Well, if I die, I hope I die from this wound' Legolas decided mentally. 'The netting is very thick, so that probably contributed to his lack of interest'. Since the net was very thick, he was unable to see who was in the other net, but he knew that he was wounded as well, due to his constant coughing. He was also very large and seemed to have a hard time moving. Legolas wondered at his fate, but not his destination; he caught a glimpse of the crumbling tower in the distance.

* * *

Saruman hobbled down the paved path that lead from Orthanc's only entrance (that was known of) towards the rabble of orcs that was waiting impatiently at his gate. He had disguised himself using his powers to resemble a stunted old man with short grey wispy hair and yellowed teeth. This way, if one managed to escape in the end, they would be looking for someone who did not exist. He had also prepared a spell beforehand that would hide the true appearance of Isengard – it would only appear as a single nondescript tower. It was well that he had achieved this several nights before, for it had taken all of his knowledge of the dark arts and had been quite draining. He spotted the largest orc at the head of the group who was grasping two sacks like trophies. And that they were. "Welcome to Isengard, the mighty fortress of Sharkey!" he cackled rubbing his knobby and liver spotted hands together as he reached the host. Gorlak gave a second glance at the crumbling tower and forced himself to keep a straight face.

"I am Gorlak, theh one yew 'ave sent all yer messages ta."

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you then! I see you have brought my items of request. Well come in, come in! Let's go to a place where we can talk." Gorlak stared stupidly at the retreating back of the crippled man.

'Who does 'ee think 'ee's talkin' ta? A bunch 'o old ladies who 'ave been invit'd fer tea?' he thought. He scowled inwardly and dragged the sacks along with him as he motioned for the rest of his troupe to follow. They were almost at the entrance when the rumor of this fallen wizard came floating back to him. "Out of his mind he is, it happened when he attempted to overthrow the dark lord. Some say the dark lord decided that such a worthy adversary deserved to stay alive. But of course he would never let anyone like that ever trouble him again and really thought it would be quite amusing to see someone that intelligent turned into an idiot. So instead he corrupted his mind and delved through his thoughts, changing everything he thought he once knew. Now he's reduced to a blathering old man, still talking about gaining power; the dark lord's own private joke". Gorlak suddenly wondered why he had put this rumor out of his mind when he had accepted the job.

"Well, here we are!" the old man beamed, "now If you'll just step inside here with your erm, packages.." he cackled at his last comment. Gorlak sudden wondered why he would want three elven princes anyways. Saruman turned once more and starte dup the steps, but grit his teeth halfway up with the effort of keeping his façade up. 'This had better not take long' he hissed inwardly. Gorlak followed the old man and was quite cheerful at the groans that came from the semi-conscious inhabitants of the sacks. Turga, who was put in charge in the place of Gorlak, sat down on the weathered stairs and contented himself with glaring at the rest of the orcs menacingly.

Inside the tower, Gorlak dumped his burdens and sat on the offered wooden chair. "So 'ere theh are" Gorlak stated expectantly, "I 'eld up my end an' now et's time fer yeh ta hold up yers." 'Thur's no use in tryin' ta make small talk with dis idiot' was Gorlak's reasoning. The old man chuckled.

"You're one to get to business aren't you?" he said, taking a knife and slicing part of the nets open and prodding the mostly unconscious elves. "Well everything seems to be in order, now what do I owe you? What was it that we decided on?" Gorlak was surprised that he had taken the matter of such a large sum of money so lightly. The old man shuffled to the closet and began rustling about.

* * *

Turga picked at his dirty nails in boredom. 'All tha' work an' dis is my reward? Gorlak better pay up' he grumbled to himself. Suddenly he caught a flickering out of the side of his eye. 'Was theh building growin'!' he thought in alarm. Indeed it was, as Saruman had released his spell. Turga jumped up and gasped in amazement, as did the rest of the orcs, at the vision that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Gaping pits appeared all around the fortress that had taken the place of the single tower, and a steadily building roar seemed to be coming from those pits. The rest of the orcs were all shouting with bafflement by now and anxiously clashing their weapons together. Turga wished he could be doing the same instead of trying to figure out what had just happened. "Wha' sorcery is this!" roared Turga, in what he hoped was a convincing tone. But no one had time to answer him, as the roar emitting from the smoking pits rose to a tumult and poured forth millions of swarming orcs and most dominantly, uruk-hai. Turga's blood froze and his eyes were stuck on the unbelievable scene before him. Then he turned and ran without a second thought. Gorlak could deal with that on his own. 'Who knows if he didn' make a bargain with tha' old crone anyway?' he thought as he focused the rest of his mind on his target, which was the nearby forest; going out by the great gate (for it had indeed grown, in strength and size) would be suicide.

* * *

"Ah yes, here it is…" Sharkey announced as he turned with Gorlak's "reward" in hand. Gorlak smiled inwardly at his brilliance. But what was even more brilliant was the blinding flash that was emitted from a staff that Sharkey had retrieved from the closet, instead of his payment. Gorlak was thrown across the floor and didn't make a sound as his body was crushed against the adamantine black walls that had suddenly transformed itself from the previous shabby stones. He instantly regretted having taken off his helmet, as a trickle of black blood seeped into his eye. He laid there and did not move, because of the shock of several things happening at once, but in the end that is what saved him. Saruman surveyed his handiwork with pride. Apparently those new walls did the job, with the help of his staff. Gorlak still wans't sure what had happened exactly, but his shrewd mind was able to realize that this wizard was definitely not what he had appeared to be – the same went for his "tower".

'It must 'ave been some sort o' bewitchment… 'dis wizard must 'o been hidin' the entire time" Gorlak guessed. Saruman walked by the still orc and gave him a reassuring kick and continued on his way out to see how his minions were faring. But when he reached the door he paused and called for Grima. Grima obediently scuttled out for a hidden passage.

"Get that filthy orc out of here and show our guests to their quarters" he ordered coldy, once more his usual self. Grima scowled in contempt at the orc on the ground. He hated them.

"Shall our… guests, be staying in the usual barracks, Saruman?" Grima sniffed.

"Yes… for now anyways. Make sure you separate them all" Saruman finished and whisked out of the room. Gorlak took all of this in and expected to be taken care of first. Well if "Sharkey" could play his little game of illusions, so could he. He hoped his wound would still allow him to rise quickly, but his broad shoulder had taken most of the blow as his head had only been able to connect with the wall shortly because of the angle at which he was thrown. But his chest was scorched from the staff's power as well. Grima, as expected, stalked angrily towards the fallen orc.

* * *

Turga was panting by the time he reached the border of the forest, but it was just as well, for the old man who had been formerly bent and dirty was now standing tall and gleaming in white at the head of the entrance. 'If tha' _is_ theh old man, but who else could there 'ave bin?' Turga thought, frustrated at his current predicament. But then again, he was better off then… well actually all of the other orcs. They had all been obliterated by the hulking mass of uruks and orcs that had issued out of those accursed pits. Deciding not to stay and find out if there were any more, Turga turned and ran deeper into the forest and planned on eventually turning east and running lengthwise to the fortress. But right now he needed the safety of denser wood.

* * *

A/N: Hooray! It's done! And it was pretty long too. So now you have no excuse to not review because there was plenty that happened! Oh and one more thing, I plan on having this story finished roughly around the end of March (hopefully), so look forward to some major plot twists. 


	10. Many Escapes

A/N: Wow! I'm glad to see that some more people are reading this, meaning Booklover Fanatic, Ithilien, Deana, Sila Ninque and a mysterious person called "lol"… heh anyways, here's the next chapter and we're back to Aragorn and Gimli. Oh and Tanwen, I didn't mention you because I knew where you were, I just wondered what happened to the ones I listed!

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**Many Escapes**

Aragorn and Gimli were back on the road again, after finally being untied by the King of the Dead. Apparently they could choose when their hands would become materialistic as well as how they were to be summoned. "So what are we to do now? We are one elf short in which we have no clue where he is and we're stuck here, horseless, with a force that could very well save the people of Minas Tirith." Gimli asked, following up with a much needed sigh. Aragorn replied with a sigh of his own.

"Did you recognize any symbols those orcs might have borne?" Aragorn questioned.

"Nothing. They seemed to be unmarked".

"I did not see any insignia either. Were they just looking for a hostage? And if they were, why? But they seemed to single out Legolas. They wanted us out of the way… hence the reason they tied us to a tree. But that's the other thing that bothers me. Why didn't they kill us? They had no problem shooting Legolas" Aragorn pondered bitterly. Aragorn frowned in irritation as he remembered how they had carelessly beaten him and Gimli down and then gotten them out of the way so they could turn their wrath on Legolas. 'But why _did_ they single him out?' he thought. "Wait, did you notice anything odd about their behavior?"

"You mean besides almost disregarding us?"

"Yes" Aragorn replied, his lips quirking. 'Gimli caught on to that too, at least I'm not imagining things'.

"Well after they er, that is to say…" Gimli stopped and thought of how to articulate his thoughts. He and Legolas had not been close when they had met; in fact they had hated each other and disrupted the council with their "opinions". But the hardships the Fellowship had endured forced them, everyone in fact, to come together and put their trust in each other. They had to or else there was no way you would survive by yourself. Funny how he and Legolas had seemed to release their grudges and made attempts to know each other around the time Boromir had died. For Boromir had become alienated from the Fellowship and felt the lure of the ring stronger. "Did you notice how they made a ring aorund him before that big one took his shot? They gave that orc space so he could do what they had come for, it seems. But I caught the look on his face and he appeared to be genuinely shocked when he hit his... mark". Gimli ground his teeth together and turned away from Aragorn to readjust something mid stride. Aragorn stopped as well but sat down a little further off, giving Gimli his space. They had been walking and running intermittently for some hours now and Aragorn was growing weary of the name "wingfoot". Gimli covered the short distance to the man and plopped himself down beside him.

"I agree with your description of the leader's action. I'm assuming he was the leader because of his size, as you know orcs usually don't take intelligence into account. But why would he be surprised when he hit his mark? Shouldn't he have been happy? Wait... the arrow pierced his chest, correct? Legolas was facing the other way when the orc took aim and turned just as the arrow was loosed. Suppose the orc was not aiming for something as vital as his chest? This theory would explain the surprise of the orc when he hit his chest and not his back..."

"...because an arrow to the back won't do as much damage as one to the chest! They did want a hostage after all. But it was a specific hostage they wanted, that's why we were viewed as mere obstacles" Gimli finished. The two sat for a few minutes solidifying this information in their minds. Aragorn gazed out at the barren plains in reverie. How had things fallen apart so? Frodo and Sam were off by themselves, with the fate of the middle earth resting on their diminutive shoulders. Pippin was with Gandalf in Minas Tirith, preparing for the battle that would test their strength of heart and body before the final battle. Merry was off with the Rohirrim in the care of the King of the Mark. Boromir was dead. He and Gimli were horseless, in the middle of the plains with a troupe of the undead. And now Legolas. Legolas was who knows where and who knows why and quite possibly, dead. Dead. His long time companion who swiftly soaked in a tough situation and dispatched the problem with knowledge and skill acquired over thousands of years. Usually silent, he preferred not to act rashly and jump about in agitation where as most men would have done so and criticised the elf for being strange behind his back. The term "elves" sparked bitter melancholy in Aragorn. He had been raised by elves and was more at home with them than men. But even though they were immortal, they were all doomed, every single one of them. Men would slowly force them out of Middle Earth and their time would be over. They were already leaving, but as new generations of men came into being there would be even less left of them and less knowledge of them. Sadness washed over him, knowing that eventually all elves would be "taken away", just as Legolas had. Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir... Arwen. Aragorn shook his head to clear the mournful thoughts from his mind. He had already come to terms with these circumstances a while ago, or had he really?

"Well, if you were stopping for my benefit I'm as rested as I'll ever be under these conditions laddie" Gimli stated, heaving himself up off the ground. Aragorn got up from the ground a little reluctantly, his sorrowful thoughts trying to drag him down to the ground again. Gimli brushed himself off hastily and peered into the distance, after seeing something out of the corner of his eye. "Did you see that?" Gimli asked tersely.

"See what?"

"I thought I saw something by that outcropping over there, by the river" Gimli said and pointed towards one of the rare raises of land in the distance.

"Let's go, and be ready for battle" Aragorn said, turning to the invisible dead soldiers behind him.

* * *

Turga threw himself on the ground, exhausted. He had gotten lost in that accursed forest, Fangorn, for a while, but he had luckily stumbled onto a swift running river winding through the forest. His limited tracking skills told him to follow it and that he did. Now he was in the open he was completely lost as he was turned around in the forest. "Wha' am I gonna do now anyways?" Turga questioned the silence. Not particularly caring anymore Turga stupidly decided to take a nap by the river, assuming no one would be around those parts. 'Stupid elves... I 'ate 'em! If it weren't fer 'em I'd never be in dis place..." Turga grumbled, contenting himself by settling on the ground as best he could. He had only been dreaming of slashing the throats of elves and dancing in pools of their blood for ten minutes or so, when he the metallic sound of weapons being drawn woke him. "Oi! Wat's goin' on!" he snarled and wildly flailed his arms and legs but was unable to move, due to the fact that a dwarf was sitting on his chest and quickly pinned his arms with surprising strength. "Arr git offa me! I ain't done nothin' wrong!" Turga whined. A man who lomed above him gave him a withering glare and brought his sword to his throat. Turga gulped.

"Who are you travelling with and why are you here?" the man demanded.

"I'm alone... I swear et!" Turga gurgled, the weight of Gimli crushing him.

"What are you doing?" Aragorn repeated, not killing him instantly because he might have known something about Legolas' whereabouts.

"Er... nothin'..."

"Oh, so you just decided to go for a nice stroll to the middle of nowhere one day, did yeh?" Gimli questioned sarcastically, pushing harder. Aragorn nodded his approval.

"Alrigh', alrigh'! I was with a bunch o' others, we were drawn to dis sorcerer who was preparin' fer a war or somethin'!" Turga half admitted.

"Sorcerer?" Aragorn asked, motioning for Gimli to let up a bit.

"Yeh, we were un'er 'is spell! He was drawin' all orcs tha' hadn't picked a group ta follow in theh war an' gettin' rid 'o 'em so he would 'ave less people ta deal with!" Turga explained. Aragorn paused. That certainly made sense. The sorcerer this orc was talking about would most definitely be Saruman, who had turned away from the true meaning of the maia and was now striving for power.

"So why aren't you dead?"

"I came ta my senses faster than theh rest 'o 'em an' I escaped through theh forest. I jist follered theh river out" Turga said, sweating and hoping his explaination would be passable. Aragorn motioned to Gimli to get off of him, and as he did he grabbed the small quivering orc by the neck.

"And you were the _only_ one who escaped?" Aragron said in a flat tone, making sure that the orc knew what would happen to him if he was lieing. Turga's eyes bulged at the force being exerted on his neck.

"I... I swear!" he choked out.

"Alright. So you say you followed the river?" Aragorn questioned suspiciously. Turga nodded hurriedly. "Then you can follow it again". With that Aragorn hurled the whining orc into the swift river and unfortuneately for Turga the strong current was running back into the forest. The sounds of the gurlgling and howling orc was soon dissapted by the sound of the rushing water and the distance it had carried him. Gimli stared down the length of the water as far as he could see,making sure the water did it's job.

"Do you think that's where Legolas is? The 'sorcerer' he was mentioning must be that treacherous Saruman" Gimli reasoned.

"Yes, I think it was not just because of a wizard's spell he was out here" Aragorn agreed. "But we must continue to Minas Tirith, we have the force that could save them!" he argued with himself. Gimli was silent. 'What of Legolas? Are we to abandon him and assume he'll save himself?'. He wanted to pull his hair out in frustration.

"The fellowship was created to help Middle Earth, and that stubborn elf would be pretty angry at us if we went to retrieve him before we continued on our mission" Gimli grunted.

Aragorn did not turn west towards the potential prisoner Orthanc might have held and started jogging in the same direction once again. Gimli set his face grimly and followed Aragorn. An easy choice. Thousands of people he didn't know over his lifelong friend.

* * *

Gorlak could hear Grima stepping closer to him and calculated which step would be his last. "Filthy orcs…" Grima muttered under his breath. His last footfall landed close to the orc's back and Gorlak made his move. Twisting rapidly on his side, Gorlak seized the grungy man's boot and with a sharp flick of his wrist, pulled him off his feet. The man landed exhaled a loud "oof!" as his back slammed into the hard stone and he lay winded. Gorlak drew his knife and tried to spring to his feet, but his burn hadn't taken the jerky movement as well as he had hoped and he collapsed onto his knees. Gorlak's knife was thrown free of his grasp and went skittering across the floor in the process. Grima, who still lay on the floor, saw his opportunity and grasped at the weapon wildly. Catching the handle and recovering his breath, Grima drew himself up and lunged at the fallen orc. Gorlak rolled aside in time, but yelped in anger at the aggravation he had caused his burn. Grima meanwhile had fallen flat on his face in his attempt to gain the upper hand and this caused the knife to go flying once again. Gorlak caught it deftly and rose fully this time. Grima saw the blow coming and tried to turn away but didn't succeed fully and the blade was plunged into his shoulder. Grima screamed and clawed at the blade still sunk in his arm. Gorlak's laughing eyes stared into the man's watering grey eyes and cruelly twisted the blade. The result was desirable to Gorlak and he decided that the wizard must have heard something by now. Pulling the blade out, he wiped the dripping liquid on the writhing man's cloak. After hastily smashing several objects that looked important to spite the wizard, Gorlak ran out of the chamber in search of an exit from the fastness of the wily conjurer.

* * *

A/N: Well there was Aragorn and Gimli's opinions on things, finally! See how fast this chap came? nudge I have my creative spark back! 


	11. Exposed Motives

A/N: After a very long time (I'm not even gonna count the months), I'm finally back! I may be a little rusty so give me a break please! Hopefully the conclusion of this tale will be coming up soon. Thanks for the reviewers who gave me the realization that I should finish this! **Rebell**, yes I would gladly take bribes but I am too paranoid to give out my address and do not have paypal!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**Exposed Motives**

Gorlak titled his head upwards, wondering if his pursuers were as desperate as him and had followed him. Several new wounds had been inflicted upon his already injured body during his feverish escape. He thought he had found a clear way out of the cursed fortress, but it turned out to be barracks for three battalions. Even though his lack of armor, which he had thrown off after dealing with Grima, had helped him run faster, he sorely missed it a moment ago as he was falling through thin air after jumping out a second story window. But then again, it wasn't that bad; it could have been the twenty second storey. Thankfully the Uruk-Hai were just as afraid of heights as he was and they had less inspiration to jump. Gorlak stumbled to his feet and staggered off in the direction of the nearby forest, thankful that the other Uruk-Hai on the ground were too busy slaughtering his own troops.

Gaining the safety of the foliage, Gorlak stiffened as he heard the snapping of twigs further in the bushes. Drawling his short knife that he had saved from the fight with Grima, he crept forward, adrenaline encouraging his instinct to take charge. He drew closer and peered through the thick leaves, trying to get a glimpse of the source of disturbance. There, drinking from the river, was a horse; one of the horses that his gang had captured during the ambush of the last prince. Making his move quickly, he jumped through the shrubbery and with the last of his strength he hefted himself onto the startled horse's back. The horse gave quite a fight, infuriated at being disrupted during his refreshment, but Gorlak clung viciously to his mane and managed to hold on. Gaining some control of the succumbing beast, he kicked his heels into its sides and urged it down the river bank, once again thankful that this horse was fresh. Too bad he had used all of his luck up at once.

* * *

Aragorn and Gimli had covered a fair bit of ground with their new goal in sight and their unnatural shadow still following close behind them. Even with their minds set, their bodies would not keep up, especially without horses. Finally succumbing to his joint's screaming protests, Aragorn stopped suddenly. "That's enough, we're going to burn ourselves out if we continue like this" he said grimly. Gimli agreed by sitting down where he had stopped and Aragorn followed suit. He stared into the distance; the city they were racing to wasn't anywhere close to being visible. "We should probably move, someone might see us out here" he said half heartedly. He glanced at Gimli who had laid on his back and then turned to the small rocky cliff to his left. Gimli didn't move. "Gimli…?" Gimli was staring unblinkingly at the turbulent sky, but suddenly decided had seen enough of it and rose to his feet and slowly trudged to the hiding spot Aragorn was now pointing at. Upon reaching the cliff, the two resumed their previous positions on the damp ground and Aragorn took to Gimli's hobby of staring into the sky; a storm was brewing, as was a war. Would they be there?

* * *

The day was passing quickly; if it actually was day. The continuous haze of grey the sky was emitting was enough to throw anyone off. Gorlak's stolen horse was almost dead with exhaustion and could barely walk. 'Walkin' meself would prob'ly be faster' Gorlak sneered to himself. And that he did. He tried to tug on the horse's reins to make him follow, but he would not move anymore. Growing frustrated, Gorlak gave one final cruel yank to the reins, which resulted in a high pitched neigh from the exhausted horse. Gorlak threw the reins down in disgust and stalked off into the mist.

* * *

Gimli woke from his reverie and sat up so fast he experienced a brief moment of vertigo. Shaking his head to clear the effect, he strained his ears for the sound he had heard. But then again, did he actually hear it? Not wanting to wake Aragorn from his scarce rest, he quickly grabbed his axe and crept forward carefully, peering around the jagged rocks suspiciously. He saw him; a rather large orc was staggering and limping quite close to their hiding spot. Drawing in a quick breath, Gimli readied himself; there would be no time to alert Aragorn without gaining the attention of the stray enemy. The orc seemed to have thought the rocky outcropping Aragorn and Gimli had chosen was a haven as well because he continued to amble towards it. He was almost level with the tense dwarf and a few seconds later Gimli sprang. His senses were so clouded that Gorlak didn't even react when the burly figure pummeled him into the ground. It was soon over. The fiery haired dwarf began shouting about something, but Gorlak wasn't quite sure about what; what was an "Aragorn" anyways? He couldn't see anything else that was living for miles. His recovering mind was suddenly baffled once again as a random man sprang out of the rocks. 'How many o' 'em are there!' Gorlak thought with confusion. 'How 'em I gonna get outta dis?'

"What are you doing here?" the man ordered sternly as the dwarf continued sitting on him, unknowns to Gorlak that he had done the same earlier to his former second captain.

"Uh…uh I er…" Gorlak stumbled, trying to give his mind more time to clear and formulate a plan.

"Let me guess, you were out for a walk?" the dwarf said sarcastically. Gorlak didn't get it.

"I was jist travellin'! Can't I do what I want 'slong as I ain't doin' anything' wrong?" Gorlak argued.

"I've heard that before. Where are you coming from?" the man said.

"Jist from a business trip ta that castle, he jist wanted some o' the goods that me an' my gang have bin makin', tryin' to earn an honest livin'" Gorlak sneered, half truthfully. Aragorn froze.

"You mean the place by the end of the Isen River?" he asked coolly.

"Er yeah, tha's et" Gorlak replied uneasily, hoping it was a good choice. Gimli glanced at Aragorn shrewdly.

"I thought I heard a horse. Do you have a horse with you?" Gimli questioned tensely.

"Well yeah, how else was I sposed ta git back?" Gorlak grumbled.

"Is it nearby?" Aragorn asked casually.

"Yeah et should be back there… take et if yeh wan' I jist wanna go" Gorlak said.

"Alright. Gimli please release him and retrieve that horse" Aragorn decided. Gimli stared at him for a moment, but then did as he said.

'He has something up his sleeve' Gimli thought furtively, as he spotted the horse lying on the ground awkwardly and slowly headed towards it.

"You may go, but go straight back to where you came from" Aragorn ordered commandingly. Gorlak nodded, turned away and began to walk back. Aragorn reached for his short knife in its sheaf. Gorlak reached to scratch his left knee but instead pulled out a small, black throwing knife that was hidden in his boot. Aragorn carefully lifted his knife. Gorlak wasted no more time ad whipped around, throwing the knife with all he might across the short distance to the ranger. He paused to grin as his knife hit the man who was still holding his own raised knife and then turned and ran blindly. But he didn't go very far; the dwarf hadn't reached the horse yet and Gorlak had ran almost straight into him. The orc yelled in surprise, the dwarf yelled in rage and with the swish of an axe the whole matter was settled.

* * *

Gandalf strolled briskly through the avenues of the marred white city, parting the crowds with his presence. The gates had been reinforced and the offending orcs and Uruk-Hai had been finally exterminated. He was on his way to the late Denethor's residence, he had committed suicide just before the city had been breached and had also tried to take the life of his son. There was definitely something suspicious behind these actions; he hadn't cracked before when his city had been threatened by large forces of enemies. Gandalf finally reached the highest tower in the city, and blasted the heavily locked door open with his staff. Upon entering the chamber, Gandalf immediately furrow his bushy brows together; in the center of the room, set on a handsomely carved table was a palantir. Tearing the thick blanket off of the unmade bed, Gandalf threw is over the orb quickly, not touching it physically himself. When he had done so in the past, he had instantly bee connected to the Dark Lord, Sauron. Would he be watching now, or was there someone else that Denethor had been communicating with? He needed to know Denethor's motives, so gathering as much mental strength as he could, he lifted the cover. Firmly grasping the now swirling sphere with both hands, he gazed into its depths.

* * *

Saruman was back up in his private tower, the power of the palantir already reflecting in his glittering, black eyes. He was searching for the heir again, once more before he would go down and check on his prisoners personally. Swirling faces of countless numbers of men flashed before his eyes, but none of them were him; he could tell. The cunning wizard squinted his eyes in concentration, increasing the many wrinkles that surrounded them. He was getting closer, when all of a sudden something cut into his concentration like a hot knife, melting away all chance of finding him. Saruman started in anger, but kept contact on purpose; he wanting to find out who the intruder was. He jumped again in surprise as the face of the person on the other side was revealed. It was Gandalf, his old comrade. Saruman gritted his teeth in anger, the cool vision of malicious intelligence melting away. 'That old fool! How did he get a hold of one of the mighty seeing stones?' Saruman thought to himself, seething. 'Ah, Gandalf. What a pleasant surprise, old _friend_' Saruman hissed, mentally directing his thoughts towards the other stone.

'Indeed, I did not expect to find you here, or rather there. Still holed up in your "stronghold"?' Gandalf replied, through the palantir. Saruman replied with a nasty laugh.

'It's more than you will ever have, in this life or another. But it is what you chose, a derogatory life of ambling around trying to help worthless mortals. And what's more is that I will soon been coming into some new property, something to fit my taste. Something…_much _bigger. I think all of Middle Earth will suffice' he spat.

'Ah, ever the optimist, aren't you?' Gandalf replied. Saruman once again laughed.

'Oh no, I am much more of a realist; you see I have something that will help me quite a bit in my endeavor' Saruman said mysteriously. Gandalf paused.

'And what would that be?'

'Did you really think I would tell you?' Saruman sneered, 'But I'll tell you enough to know that the subject, or subjects in question are quite important to your little world'.

'Who is it Saruman' Gandalf cut in sharply.

'I don't know, but I think your precious heir of Gondor does! Yes, that's right, I remember now. I believe they're all on quite personal terms! But maybe he's still unaware of this recent event? I guess he was too focused on hiding his precious _ring_ to care about the whereabouts of friends… well, now you can tell him where to find me if he decides to become less cruel and uncaring' Saruman finished airily. 'Goodbye, old friend'.

* * *

A/N: phew It's good to be back in the saddle, but it was a bumpy ride. Oh well, I think I'm back into the plot again! Oh by the way, the march of the Ents and the destruction of Orthanc never happened, if you haven't already figured that out. Because that would be kind of contradicting to the whole plot now, wouldn't it? Thanks for the continuos reviews again guys! 


	12. Blind Alliances

A/N: I'm back… yet again. Here's the elves finally, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

**Blind Alliances**

Gandalf stared out the shattered remnants of the late Steward's window, the rising wind sucking at the cloth hangings around the frame. The palantir was covered once more. Seconds ticked away. Where was Aragorn? Galndalf knew he couldn't wait much longer, but who was there to reach out to for aid? There was only one hope left, but would they merely turn a blind eye?

* * *

Elrohir's eyes shot open as a scream of agony broke over him. He automatically turned to his brother, but was surprised to see his face impassive, yet not surprised to see his eyes closed as he had been given a dose of the orc drug more recently. Taking a few seconds to take in his surroundings, Elrohir pulled at the various holes in the net to form a larger gap in which he could see through. Heavy, dragging footsteps echoed through the room hurriedly. He was in a large chamber and to his right was a huddled form that he instantly recognized as the other captive. It was stirring as well. But further ahead he saw another dark shape; it wasn't moving at all. A sickening feeling crept into his stomach as his gaze traveled to the slowly spreading pool of blood leaking across the already shining tiles. 'Something has gone wrong, and it may be to our advantage' he thought with hope, despite his grim surroundings. Elrohir tried to struggle to a sitting position, but found it impossible with the weight of his brother's prone body working against him. He was starting to grow impatient. 'This may be our only chance at escape! I need to do something, but not on my own. Who is the other prisoner? More importantly, how would they react to an elf?' he reasoned and decided not to take his chances. Clearing his throat experimentally, he decided to go for a slight gruffness that could come from a man.

Legolas had stayed will during the struggle between the man and orc, silently hoping for the first time in his life that the orc would triumph. His luck had held for a second time when the orc who had initially captured him left, but what had caused the fight in the first place? 'And what does, or did, the fallen man want with me and the other captive?' legolas pondered. He shifted to get a better look at the man, but still could not recognize him. Either way, he had an ill look about him and the pool of blood seeping from his arm wasn't helping. Legolas started as unexpected rumblings emitted from the other captive. 'They can't be an elf, they're much too large, and the timbre of their voice proves this. They're either a man or possibly a dwarf. In that case, I doubt they're met an elf and could still have suspicious notions. As long as I have the cover of this net, I might as well maintain good escape conditions. The last thing I need right now is another prejudiced mortal' he groaned inwardly and mentally began preparing his masquerade.

"Hello?" a gruff voice said quietly. Legolas paused.

"Hello. It appears we are in quite a predicament" Legolas stated bluntly, adding what he hoped would pass as a Gondorian accent. The grating voice grunted in agreement.

"So you want out too?" it replied.

"I don't know, my eyes are already used to the constant darkness…" Legolas replied, attempting a combination of manly pride and sarcasm.

"Then it's decided. But what - " the man began, but exploded into a fit of coughs. Elrohir stopped mid sentence as Elladan woke abruptly and noisily. Elrohir quickly grabbed at him and motioned for him to be quiet, lest he give them away. Sure enough the mysterious prisoner replied quickly.

"Are you alright?" said the other. Elrohir let Elladan's coughs subside to quiet gasping before he replied. Apparently the other captive thought they were one person.

'My decision to pretend to be a man was a wise one' Elrohir thought with grim satisfaction. "Yes, the drug has affected me though" he stated.

"Oh…" Legolas replied uncertainly.

"But I'm fine, let's get out of here" Elrohir said stubbornly, supporting his façade.

"Alright, well can you stand? My hands and feet are bound" Legolas said.

"Mine as well, but I think I'd manage to crawl".

"That sounds fine right now. Which way?"

"I have no idea, but you're smaller and may be able to scout ahead and get away faster if you go first. Lead the way" Elrohir reasoned, giving Elladan and himself some cover, seeing as there would be less of a chance that the stranger would be able to catch on to "his" odd way of moving. Legolas didn't reply, but slowly started moving towards the nearby entrance which looked like it led to a hallway.

Elrohir turned to the slightly puzzled Elladan and quickly filled him in. "Try to move at the same time I do, to make it less obvious" he hissed, as he slammed his infected hand a little too hard on the cold floor. Elladan nodded silently, so as to not provoke his already itching throat.

Legolas paused just outside the entrance to the chamber they had been in, he was correct in assuming it would lead to a corridor. And this one branched several ways. "Any suggestions?" he asked in a muffled tone.

"Your guess is as good as mine" Elrohir replied in the same gravelly tone. Legolas didn't answer, but with a painstaking lack of speed, headed for the second of the three doors in the left wall. After a few minutes of struggling, all the escapees had made it into the room. For that's what it was, a mere room and not any sort of hall or passage leading to freedom.

* * *

Saruman had left his palantir with a sense of satisfaction and was now in yet another room plotting his next move. As he drifted through many dusty scrolls, he thought of his new captives , and the prospect of torment was too much. "Grima," he called, knowing he was bound to be lurking nearby, "bring the twins to me, I've decided on some early interrogation". Finding the scroll he had been searching for among his vast collection of dark sorcery, he sat down, leisurely poured himself another glass of red wine and began studying the ancient paper. Ten minutes ticked by. Saruman looked up expectantly. The room was empty. Glancing down at the paper again, Saruman did not lose track of the next few minutes as easily. "Grima!" he barked impatiently, slamming his glass down. Nothing. "Insolent fool!" he hissed as he stood, threw his goblet of wine to the floor where it promptly shattered, and strode for the door.

* * *

Legolas stiffened as the sound of breaking glass met his ears. "Quiet!" he whispered urgently to the other, who had been heading towards the door again. Seconds later white robes swished past the threshold of their room at an alarming speed.

"Quick, we have to go somewhere else!" Elrohir said in a rush, releasing his bated breath. The two jumbles of net made their way much more awkwardly, yet faster, into the hallway and into the adjacent room. This time Elrohir and Elladan were leading. "Ah, be careful, there's glass on the floor!" Elrohir said, surprised, as he crushed a shard with his knee.

"Yes, I heard glass breaking just before that man missed is… he must have been in here".

"But who was he? I thought we were here because of that injured man in the room we were in originally?"

"Obviously there is more than one in on this" Legolas decided stonily. "Well we might as well use this glass to our advantage, can you find a piece large enough to use but still fit through the net?"

"Already done" Elrohir replied, grabbing two pieces and pulling them into his net and handing one to Elladan. Legolas raised an unseen eyebrow.

"Do you mind giving me a piece?" he asked.

"What…oh yeah sure" Elrohir said and scrabbled for another chunk and sent it sliding to the other net. Legolas silently grabbed the shard and managed to get it through his net. "The other oiece I have looked a bit dull…" Elrohir explained lamely. Legolas continued to work in silence, concentrating on hacking away the layers of netting without slicing up his own hand too bad.

"We're going to have to show ourselves anyways" Elladan whispered to Elrohir.

"I know, but at least this charade bought us some cooperation before we could be free of these bonds" Elrohir said half heartedly. He continued slicing at the fairly large sized hole they had managed to make. "He did help us get this far, so we owe it to him to at least help him get out of that thing. Besides, we have twice the energy!" Elrohir continued, smiling. Elladan coughed in response.

'At least it's fairly fast work' Legolas thought, but was still surprised when a pair of hands burst through the other net. 'How…' he puzzled, but was shocked even more when another pair of hands joined the first and together ripped the net open. Despite everything, Legolas began laughing, as he could with his injured chest restricting him. 'I can't believe it! All this time we were hiding from each other' he thought with relief, yet disbelief at this twist of fate.

Elrohir wasn't expecting a good reaction, but he certainly wasn't expecting laughter! Striding over to the other partially shredded net, he gave it one last slice and opened it for it's inhabitant. H edropped the shard he was still holding as the blond haired elf emerged stiffly. "You!" he and Elladan exclaimed simultaneously.

"You." Legolas replied with amusement. Elladan was the first to recover.

"Beautiful accent, O man of Gondor!" Elladan wheezed, joining them.

"You did a fine job as well, that coughing threw me off."

"I will take credit for the outbursts, but the rest was Elrohir" Elladan replied.

"Well, now that we can truly trust each other, let's get out of here" Elrohir advised, serious once more. Quickly making his way to the window, he instantly knew their problem. "We're far too high up. This is a tower, we need to find stairs" he said as he watched the orcs begin to rally in front of the entrance to the fortress, "and fast".

* * *

A/N: YAY, reunion! Anyways I went back and fixed all the chapters slightly, so I'd advise you to go back and skim over the chapters just to recap what's going on with everybody. I doubt anyone remembers it's been so long! 


	13. Break and Enter

A/N: Yay, this one didn't take a one to two months to be posted! If you haven't guessed it yet, this story is starting to wrap up…

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Break and Enter**

Saruman angrily strode from the room he had stormed into only moments before, his irritation standing our clearly on his face. But lurking underneath the bubbling layer of annoyance and impatience lay a dark pleasure, a pleasure that was only satisfied by contemptuous mockery. How he loved his exceedingly superior knowledge and authority, which allowed him to sneer disdainfully at an offending infidel who dare take the instructions of the white wizard lightly. He would belittle the weak by speaking to them as if they were a mere child, reprimanding with a mockery of patience that purposely did not mask the acidity of his words. This was his one true ego boost and he savored the situation when it arose. His mood lifted slightly at the prospect of this desirable predicament, and the sorcerer moved with a quicker step to the room where the day's events had come to the boiling point.

And there he was, sprawled face down on the glittering tiles. Saruman paused, slightly disturbed, but not enough to hurry to his servant's side. Almost leisurely he walked across the room, not even sparing the greasy haired man a second glance, as he was too busy scowling silently at his once prized set of crystal scales that had been unceremoniously smashed to pieces. But as he reached the stricken man on the floor, he noticed the edge of the dark puddle he was lying in, concealing it from a casual eye. Quickly flipping the prone form over with his foot, the wizard knew within a moment he was dead. Those darkened eyes seemed to absorb the light instead of reflect, and the unnatural whiteness of the skin diagnosed the cause of death; blood loss. Saruman drew his foot away in fear of staining his boot and stood still for a moment. 'Grima was useful, but not so useful he cannot be replaced' he thought, staring at the body with mixed emotions. But one of the most prominent emotions was alarm, for the prisoners were nowhere to be seen. Concentrating hard, he mentally summoned one of the head orcs to him and then crossed the room once more, heading back to consult the palantir.

Upon reaching the room he had originally flown from in rage seeking Grima, he stopped dead in mid-step as a harsh crunching met his ears. Looking down and lifting his foot, Saruman saw a pile of silvery powder. Quickly scanning the floor of the chamber, it didn't take him long to realize he had crushed a shard of glass, one of many pieces that littered the floor. Saruman's suspicions rose quickly, wondering who had been in the room, but suddenly paused. 'Of course, my goblet' he thought calmly, and headed for the covered palantir on its ornately carved stand. It would be fruitless for even him to search the many passages of Orthanc without aid. Reaching to draw the cover off the orb, he paused once more. He had meant to pry into the minds of one of his captives, but he then thought of another matter that he could attend to at the same time. He decided to check into this matter swiftly, for something seemed to draw him to this idea like a glimmer of encouragement. Throwing the cover off completely, Saruman braced himself mentally and began searching for the heir of Gondor.

He gathered his strength as he found him, expecting to meet resistance. But instead he found none. It was jarring, similar to descending stairs in the dark and expecting another step, yet hitting solid ground instead. An evil smile crept across the wizard's thin lips as he entered the swirling bank of images that was the man's mind. But the smile suddenly faltered. This was easy, too easy; he still had met no resistance. Brushing this uneasiness aside, he began to pick apart recent memories in hopes of finding something about the ring. This must have triggered one of them, for a memory began playing, and there he was; the blond prisoner he had ordered. The point of view in which he was watching this briefly glimpsed the elf struggling with many orcs, fighting with only a knife. The view swiveled to a press of orcs in front that were trying to subdue him. A blade flashed before his eyes, his own blade; Anduril. This banished any lingering shred of doubt of identity Saruman had as this could only be the heir. He continued to watch as the blade sliced viciously at the rabble of orcs. Holding them off for the moment, he turned to look at a dwarf nearby and then scanned the whole scene quickly before launching another attack.

Besides seeing these images replayed, the wizard could also feel the emotions that had been coursing through the man's body at the time. It was mostly a mixture of determination and the rush that comes with adrenaline, but lurking underneath was fear. A fear that grew each time he spared a glance at his outnumbered comrades being hemmed in, each time he cut down an orc who was only replaced with two more. Suddenly he stopped as the elf, who was now encircled, whipped around with weapon at the ready, just in time to take an arrow to the chest. The man's throat constricted, creating a paralyzing effect, his insides turning to ice. His vision blurring from exhaustion and shock, he only caught the injured form collapse before he himself was seized and bound to a tree. He barely registered the dwarf who was bound beside him, lost in anger and fear, a creeping dread that chilled his soul. 'I have failed again, I cannot do this! I can't save my friends; I cannot save the city…' Saruman heard the man's thought float across his own mind as if he had conceived it. These feelings of guilt, shock and fear were creating a whirlwind inside of him, sucking him into darkness. Saruman started suddenly as he realized that he himself was being sucked in as well, those powerful feelings straining at the wizard's link to the real world. Desperately clinging to his own consciousness, he struggled to resurface to reality. Even though the agony was not physically real, it threatened to consume him. Suddenly a harsh clattering of metal on stone broke the grasp of the whirlwind.

Saruman found himself stumbling backwards, and the silence that seemed as deafening in contrast as the mental storm was not the only thing greeting him. He straightened, his breathing slightly uneven, and gave the head orc he had summoned earlier as cold of a stare as he could manage. The orc was picking up his heavy shield, which explained the metallic resonation that had actually saved him. The wizard glanced at the shield once more. "I do not care what you were doing before; I need you to tend to a matter. In the chamber across the hall and to the right you will find a body. Dispose of it anyway you wish" he said, gesturing for him to leave. The silent orc just looked at him, grinning slightly before exiting. Saruman sat down in the chair in front of the table in which the scroll he had been poring over before still lay half open. He pressed a hand to his forehead. He had not lost control like that for a long time. This anticipation of learning of the ring had caused carelessness. But it had not all been in vain, for he had learnt that the blond elf was not valuable to the heir only because of his title. 'Even better' he sneered. He lifted his head once more and took a deep breath. As he did so, he spotted something on the floor he had missed among the shards. It was a scrap of shredded netting. Not taking his eyes off it, he walked towards it and picked it up. He shifted his gaze to the glittering shards on the floor. Then his eyes quickly darted around the room, and found what he was looking for. Briskly walking over to his towering shelves, he yanked out two large nets from behind the toppled books that had hastily been arranged to hide the evidence. 'They're loose' he though numbly, and still gripping a net, ran for the door with a snarl.

* * *

A relentless haze of images clouded the ranger's mind, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of vertigo. He was spinning endlessly, in a dimension where there was no gravity. And he wasn't alone. Through the nausea of this out of body experience, Aragorn could sense the intruder's mind and intentions, yet was powerless to stop it. Suddenly new images flickered in his mind, and these were not hazy or random; they followed a specific pattern. Aragorn stood on the edge of control as the night the Three Hunters had been sundered inadvertently began playing.

Gimli hovered over the fallen man nervously. He had already ripped the drugged dart from his arm, and was now trying to get a response from him. He had been trying for at least ten minutes. Shifting from foot to foot, not knowing what to do next, he suddenly spotted the answer to his question; the horse. "Of course!" Gimli breathed aloud and quickly left the man's side to reach the wandering horse. As Gimli neared the creature, he cautiously stuck out his arm while advancing. But there was no need, as the horse hardly shied away. He grabbed at the dangling reins and attempted to drag the horse the short distance to Aragorn; no easy task in the case of a tired horse who was determined to rest. Perhaps Gimli had just believed the horse to be stubborn, or its attitude to be yet another stroke of bad luck, but it didn't dawn on him how far the beast had actually traveled until he managed to get him to Aragorn. But there was another pressing matter; how would he get ON to the horse?

* * *

Legolas stared bleakly down a pitch black corridor. They had been wandering for some time now, wandering deeper and deeper into the web of halls and rooms, which only seemed to contain stairwells leading upwards. They had now reached the end of the hall they had been following only to discover it split four ways. And unlike the hall they had just been in, these did not contain any windows; they were pitch black. They were also narrower which would hinder their travel greatly as they were all walking abreast and each supporting the one on their side. Legolas started from his trance as Elladan, who was in the middle, lurched forward with dry coughs wracking his body. Both he and Elrohir tightened their grip on him and pulled him back, preventing him from collapsing on the ground. They did this with concern, but they were not overly shocked as these outbursts had become routine. After escaping confinement, they had enjoyed the fresh air and fairly comfortable atmosphere of the room containing the palantir. But they quickly that that was one of the _only_ comfortable rooms, because it was Saruman's study. Further down it was much colder, and what was worse was the bone chilling damp. Elrohir had quietly filled Legolas in on their capture as they hurried as fast as they could through the dripping maze, including Elladan's circumstances. Legolas had been surprised upon hearing of his bad reaction, not guessing at it because of the loss of its effect in the warm study. But the damp vapor began to back up Elrohir's words, as Elladan's still weakened immune system paid the price. "Any idea?" Elrohir asked Legolas quietly, as Elladan sagged between them, trying to catch his breath. Legolas shook his head, closed his eyes and took an audible breath.

"Besides, I believe it's your turn to choose?" he replied as an afterthought.

"Second from the right it is, then. But it appears fairly narrow; we'll have to split apart. I can support him but you'll have to lead us; blind, most likely".

"Then let's continue" Legolas said, preparing to let go of Elladan. But Elladan wasn't prepared and tried to get a grasp on Legolas' shoulder once more as he broke away. Unfortunately his shaking hand slipped and struck Legolas' crudely bandaged chest quite forcefully, driven by panic. Legolas exhaled sharply, and turned quickly to face the cold stone wall, one arm around his chest and the other stretched out to the wall for support. Another outburst of coughing erupted behind him, but this time it was triggered by speech, not cold.

"I… s-sorry, didn't… mean…" Elladan managed to gasp out, being lead forward with Elrohir, and reaching a hand out to rest on the fair haired elf's shoulder.

"What is it that ails you? I knew not of any injury…" Elrohir asked, for they had been too busy earlier discussing their escape route and Saruman's motivations. Legolas grit his teeth as he felt warm droplets of blood seep through the rough bandages and slid over his fingers that held his chest. Not dropping his hand, he slowly turned to face them.

"An arrow wound, it's just not had time to heal" he explained, as he took off his cloak, retrieved his knife and cut two strips from the bottom before holding it out to Elladan. The twins no longer had their cloaks, and Elladan received it with a grateful nod of the head. He would have put up some protest but it was beginning to be difficult to feel his fingers. Legolas quickly looped the pieces of cloth around his original but now slightly saturated bandages, and fumbled with the knots until Elrohir lowered Elladan for a moment and unabashedly came to his aid. Legolas whispered his thanks, somewhat embarrassed as he moved back to Elladan.

"Well, whatever the reason behind these injuries and this situation, we need to go. Lead on." Elrohir said, once more supporting Elladan with his arm around his back and Elladan's arm around his own shoulder. With that, Legolas stepped into the inky hall and walked several paces, one hand trailing along the right side of the wall. He could hear the twins behind him, but their steps were faltering.

"Wait" Elrohir interjected suddenly. "This darkness is muffling, I can hardly see or hear you, come back a bit". Legolas retraced his steps slightly, with the hand that wasn't being guided by the wall, extended. Suddenly his hand was grabbed by a smooth, strong hand that was betrayed by a tight bandage, and despite the knowledge it was Elrohir he still started slightly; the darkness was deceiving, for Legolas had guessed him farther away. With one hand guiding and the other leading they continued, still with the occasional fit of coughing coming from behind him that Legolas could tell Elladan was trying to cover. Left with the darkness, it gave Legolas time to mull over the questions that had been irking him for some time. Where were Aragorn and Gimli? Had they escaped the orcs unscathed? Secretly Legolas believed the latter to be impossible, but he hid this from even himself. But if so, would they continue to the war, believing him dead? 'I can't blame them if they did think I perished' he thought, letting his guiding hand press to his chest momentarily, partially in memory but mostly with the purpose of trying to ease the pain. Reluctantly he groped for the wall again, a low moan adding to the ache in his chest, only to find the wall gone.

* * *

Two events that contained more action than the past hour occurred in a second; Aragorn's eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly and Gimli jumped violently and cursed as equally violently in Dwarvish. "You're awake!" Gimli exclaimed, spluttering slightly from shock. To his further surprise Aragorn stood, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and turned his eyes to the expanse of then plains, then to the now upright horse and finally came to rest on Gimli.

"Where are we?" he asked. Gimli paused.

"You don't remember? The orc with the knife, who was out for a 'walk'?" he said uneasily. Aragorn stared at the dwarf heard, his brow knitting and his arm reaching to massage his numb shoulder.

'But where is Legolas? I just saw him… being shot!' he thought silently, but gasping loudly as he came to realization. "Yes, we're going to find Legolas, he was captured" Aragorn answered firmly.

"Er… no, you decided he would have wanted us to continue…" Gimli said uncomfortably, staring at the ground.

"Yes, I did say that, but I've changed my mind." Gimli stared at him. "Do not look so worried, Master Dwarf! I have truly come back to my senses. While I was unconscious, someone tried to enter my mind again. Of course they succeeded quite easily this time. It is ill that they succeeded, but I now know their identity. And he most certainly is holding Legolas, he wanted information of him… but there was something else he desired, something important. I know now that this is no coincidence, it has everything to do with the war!" Aragorn said, gaining strength and confidence with every spoken word. Suddenly he turned to face the whistling wind. "I command thee, to Isengard!" he shouted. Suddenly the dreary plains brightened and sprang to attention with shimmering warriors. Gimli let loose a shout of surprise, for he had completely forgotten the dead army. However surprising, it was as encouraging to the dwarf as the elvish words that were now being whispered by the man to the reviving horse.

* * *

A/N: HUZZAH! This is by far one of the longest chapters I've written; over 3000 words! It's also the chapter that I took the longest on, so I hope it clears things up. I also hope I made things a bit darker for you (cough, VIRESSE,cough! No really, I appreciate the feedback!), last chapter I gave them a break, but now the break's over. Next chap will be even darker for a certain group of elves (hmmm I wonder who they are…)! Thanks for the continued support guys! 


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